Living Amongst Ghosts
by PageOfWands
Summary: A young girl from the future arrives at the Weasleys' house right before Harry Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts. Who is she? Why has she traveled back in time? Will she be able to save Harry? HG, RHr. EPILOGUE now uploaded.
1. A Story About the Dead

**Title: **Living Amongst Ghosts

**Author: **PageOfWands

**Summary: **A 16-year-old girl travels back in time to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts. She pretends to be a Weasley cousin, but her true identity is far more complicated. Over the course of the year, she will prove her usefulness time and time again, but what happens when a traveler from the future begins to get comfortable in a past that she cannot remain in?

**Length:** Barring any major revisions, this will eventually be 30 chapters and an epilogue.

**Author's Notes:** There are chapter-specific notes at the start of most chapters. Other than that, just review, please!

When the world stopped dissolving around my eyes, I found I was in Fred and George's old bedroom, just like we'd planned. I stuffed the Time Turner under the neckline of my dress robes and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over myself. I wasn't taking any chances.

It was a fairly simple matter to slip downstairs to a side room where Molly was fussing with Hermione's hair. "Just -- there's a dear -- just stay. STAY." She drew her wand and hastily performed a Setting Charm on the coiffe. Unseen, I gaped at the two of them -- Hermione was not much older than I, and Molly was still middle-aged.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, timidly brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"You're more than welcome, dear. Now go find Ron." She smirked, and Hermione blushed.

"Um -- I'll -- I'll be back in time for the photographer," Hermione stuttered, then left.

Now was my chance. I swept the Invisibilty Cloak from my shoulders in full view of Molly, whose eyes widened alarmingly. Her wand was still drawn, and I could see dual instincts battling in her: to strike at me, and to protect me.

"Who -- what -- ?"

"Molly," I said. "I need you to help me."

"Who ARE you?" she gasped.

"Who do you think I am?" I asked kindly. She still hesitated, so I took my wand and laid it on an end table. "I'm not here to harm anyone. I need to help your family, and so I need your help."

Molly's face was frozen in an expression of disbelief. She walked over to where I stood as if in a dream, took my tomato-red hair between two fingers, and brought it to her eyes. Then she looked into my face, examining my emerald green eyes, ski-jump nose, and square jaw. "You . . . ." She was at a loss for words.

I looked at her and smiled.

She stumbled backwards. "You can't be."

"I am."

She shook her head frantically. "No, no, it's impossible."

I pulled the Time Turner out from under my robes, showed it to her, and hid it again. "No, it's not. Look, you told me when I left that you wouldn't believe me, so you told me a story to tell you to make you believe."

Molly sat down heavily in an armchair. "A story?"

"About what you did the night Fabian and Gideon died."

All the color drained from her face. "What do you know about that?" she whispered.

"Mad-Eye Moody came to your house to tell your parents. It was late August, and Percy had just been born, so you'd herded Bill and Charlie through the Floo so Percy could meet his grandparents. The night was muggy, and Arthur was working late at the Ministry, but it felt like any other night. Your parents were cooing over the new baby, and Bill and Charlie were playing with your brothers' old toys."

Molly's face was waxen. "The toy broomsticks. They were playing with the toy broomsticks."

"Then there was a loud knock at the door. It was nearly the height of the war, so your parents had wards up. Your father checked through their peephole; it was Mad-Eye, and he was holding his hat in his hands. Your father called for your mother. They let him in, and he told them."

"Dead. Both of them, dead," she breathed. "He called them 'heroes.'"

"You were mad with grief. So you gave Percy to Bill and ran down into your parents' basement. Your father had worked with Magical Law Enforcement and had some confiscated materials -- rare books. He was a collector."

Molly was nearly hyperventilating at this point. "He didn't know I knew about them."

"You found what you were looking for: a grimoire. You paged through it till you found what you needed . . . a spell to summon the spirits of the dead. You tried Gideon first, because though you'd tried to love them equally, you secretly loved him better. He was closer to your age and had always been so sweet to you. So you used the Dark incantation and called his spirit." I paused. "Do you need me to tell you what happened?"

"Go on," she said, though she was shaking.

"He came. He looked like a ghost. He looked so sad. You were crying and said you were so happy to see him.

"But he was just sad. He told you that by summoning him, he'd missed his chance to enter the next life alongside Fabian, and that before he could get back to the gateway, he'd have to lay a curse on your family.

"You begged him not to. You asked him to remember how much you loved him. But Gideon was barely himself. He told you he was disappointed in you for using Dark magic when he'd given his life to end it, but he seemed unable to control himself.

"Finally, after you'd wept for a long time, he told you the curse: 'Bad luck will forever haunt your family,' he said. 'When you are young, money will slip through your fingers; when you are not young anymore, your children will scatter; when you are not old enough, you will bury a child.' Then he dissolved. And you went upstairs to play with your children as though nothing had happened."

Molly stood up suddenly. "Yes. Yes, that's what happened. And I never told a soul. Tell me -- what's your name?"

"Susan," I said. She looked so terrifying, her face all white and her lips so thin. "Grandma, you're not mad at me, are you?"

Her sobs were immediate and copious. She took me in her arms, and soon my left shoulder was sodden from all the tears she'd shed. I didn't feel the need to cry; after all, I'd just waved good-bye to her all of a half hour before.

In the midst of all this emotional upheaval, I still couldn't forget my mission. "Grandma, I need you to give me a cover story. I need to be a cousin that your kids have never met, or even heard of."

She straightened and wiped her eyes. In an instant, she turned from my grandmother to a full-fledged member of the Order of the Phoenix. "Right. Well, I have a second cousin, Timothy Hopkins, who's a Squib. He married a Muggle woman named Anna. You can be their daughter. Susan Hopkins -- is that all right?"

"Yes, thank you."

She narrowed her eyes. "What's your real last name?"

But before I could answer, the door to the room crashed open, and Ron tumbled in, dragging Hermione by her wrist. They both wore silver dress robes. "Mum, can we get these photos OVER with?? Miss Head Girl over here won't let me muss up her hair." Then he noticed me and stopped dead in his tracks. "Who's this?" he said defensively, clearly worried about his mother, who still looked upset.

"This is your cousin Susan," Molly said without missing a beat. "She's Timothy's girl -- you know, the accountant who married a Muggle. It turns out she's a witch!"

Hermione advanced and extended her hand. I tried not to smile as she introduced herself. "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm Muggleborn too. Why haven't you been attending Hogwarts with us?"

Thankfully, Hermione had prepared me for herself. "My parents moved to America when I was small. As soon as they realized I was a witch, actually. They knew from Dad's family how bad it was for Muggleborns in Britain."

"American? Not much of an accent," she said suspiciously.

"We didn't move till I was seven. My accent was pretty well set by then."

The troubled look on her face cleared, and her smile became less guarded. "Well, it's lovely of you to come all the way to England for a wedding."

"Actually," I said carefully, "I might start at Hogwarts. My parents have been talking to Molly and Arthur about letting me stay with them. Apparently the education at Hogwarts is unimpeachable."

Hermione's face lit up, just as she had told me it would. "Oh, it IS! It's the best school for magic in the world!"

Ron looked incredulous. "Mom, how is it possible for a Weasley to be so enthusiastic about school??"

"She's not a Weasley; she's a Hopkins," Molly said briskly. "And I'd appreciate it if you were a tad more enthusiastic about school yourself. Now, where IS everyone? We need to take these photographs!"

As if on cue, two figures walked into the room. One was that which I knew better than any other in the world, though she was younger than I'd ever seen her. Her red hair was pinned in elaborate braids and formed a crowd around her head, her silver dress robes matched Hermione's perfectly, and she looked as though she'd recently been crying.

The other was tallish and slouchy; his black hair stuck in all directions, and he wore another set of silver robes, though these, like Ron's, were more masculine than the girls'. His eyes, I noted, were exactly like everyone had said they would be -- that is to say, exactly like mine.

It was all I could do not to rush forward and embrace him. It was Harry Potter, and though he was my father, I'd never met him before this moment.


	2. The Impromptu Photographer

"Who's this?" Harry growled. My dreams of a teary recognizance fell flat. It was all for the best, I reminded myself -- I had to go undetected in this time. But deep down, I'd thought my father would know who I was.

I stuck my hand out. "I'm Susan Hopkins. Mrs. Weasley is my second cousin once removed."

Ginny -- my mother -- laughed. "I love the name Susan. I'm Ginny Weasley; pleased to meet you," she said, shaking my hand. I marveled at the way she could rally her spirits. If I remembered correctly, my father had just explained to her for the fourth time why he couldn't be with her -- after they'd just had a lovely, romantic morning together.

"I've heard so much about you all, I feel like I know you already," I said to the crowd of . . . children. They were, essentially, children. So was I, but I was used to seeing my mother older and sadder; I was used to seeing Ron and Hermione older and mostly happier. "Molly always sends us a Christmas card with photos and stories about what you all get up to all the time."

All four teenagers looked shifty-eyed for a moment. I saw it and said, "Well. Maybe not ALL the time."

That finally got them laughing, which finally got my father to remember his manners. "Harry Potter," he said gruffly, shaking my hand.

"Nice to meet you," I said, purposefully not mentioning his nickname or the alleged prophecy. Harry had to learn to like me, and quickly. He barely looked at my face for a second before looking down at the floor.

My mother smiled. "He's just shy," she explained, and put one arm gently around his shoulder. Harry looked surprised, but did not shrug her off. For my part, I was mesmerized by the sight of my parents together. They just fit: Ginny radiated joy, and Harry, a sort of calm beatitude. I had never seen my mother so content.

Molly cleared her throat. "Yes, well, Ron? Would you go collect the guests? This photographer is DREADFULLY late, and we need to be assembled when he arrives."

Ron grumbled, but slunk out in search of the bride and groom. Hermione watched him with an odd look on her face as he left, then turned to me. "You know, I've never seen anyone transfer to Hogwarts before. It'll be fascinating, really, to see how they deal with you! Do you think they'll have you wear the Sorting Hat? Do you know about the houses?"

I laughed. "I do, yes. Since I'm part Weasley, I imagine I'll be in Gryffindor. In fact, Ginny, I'd be in your year -- maybe we'll share a dorm!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry's expression grow stormier and stormier. I couldn't tell if he was angry about his impending separation from my mother, or if he was getting suspicious. Knowing Harry -- which I didn't, except through stories -- it was probably both.

Ginny smiled. "I'd love to have some more family around. Fred and George took off year before last to start their joke business, and Ron's going --" She stopped, looking flustered. "That is, Ron will be going after this year. Leaving school, I mean."

"Right," I said, acting as though she'd said nothing out of the ordinary. "I never had any family in America, so I'm quite looking forward to it."

Ron came back in then with Bill and Fleur in tow, the latter of whom was resplendent in traditional white wedding robes and an elaborate silver tiara. She looked exactly the same in my time. Bill looked a bit younger than I'd known him, though the disfiguring scars across his face generally gave him an ageless look. He was wearing black formal robes and a wizard's hat.

"Photo time!" he cried good-naturedly, and ushered his bride to a seat by the window. "Where's this photographer, then?"

"Not yet," his mother said crossly. "Your father's not even here. ARTHUR!!" she bellowed, causing everyone else present to wince.

I heard quick footsteps above stairs, and a moment later Arthur ran in. "Sorry, dear. I got an owl from work about a Mugglebaiting incident near Dover that had to be answered immediately." He looked at Bill and Fleur fondly. "You two are quite the picture. Speaking of which, where's the photographer?"

"Not yet," Molly said wearily. "Does anyone know where Fleur's family is?"

Fleur patted her hair. "My muzzer ees just powdering 'er nose. My fazzer ees waiting to escort her. My Gabrielle --"

But she was cut off there by Gabrielle's entrance. When she saw Fleur in her wedding robes, her face lit up, and she cooed in French. Fleur answered in French, and gathered Gabrielle in her arms. Her parents followed soon after, her mother's half-veela heritage instantly recognizable. I saw Ron swoon a little, and then Hermione scowl terribly in his direction until he noticed.

"Now we just need the boys," Molly fretted.

"Mum!" cried a voice from the hall. I recognized it as either Fred or George. "Mum, there's someone's head in the Floo! He says he can't come take the photographs!!"

Molly went red to the roots of her hair, but I saw my opening. "I'll take the photos, Gr-- Molly. I don't mind at all, if you have a camera."

Bill smiled. "And who are you, young lady?"

Introductions were made to all the family. Charlie was summoned from the backyard (where he'd been setting up tables for the evening's guests) and prevailed upon to lend me his camera. As I arranged the family in a happy huddle, not excluding Dad and Hermione, it suddenly struck me why my mother had sent me to Wizarding photography lessons with Colin Creevey, an old friend. She'd been setting me up for Bill and Fleur's wedding.

I began to wonder what else I'd been prepared for without my knowing. 


	3. Semper Paratis

The wedding was, in a word, beautiful. I met all the people I already knew, and Molly managed to cover for me spectacularly. No one acted suspicious of me, except Harry. Professor Lupin had been a bit taken aback by my cover story, but Tonks (who wore his engagement ring on her left hand) just laughed. "Look at her, Remus," she said. "Look at that hair. She's clearly a Weasley."

He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "Let me see you be a Weasley."

In an instant, her hair was flaming red, though still terribly short. "There."

I clapped my hands in delight, as though I'd never seen Tonks do that trick. "Hey! How did you do that?"

"Family secret," said Tonks winningly, and turned her hair back to the purple she'd been wearing it (to match her purple dress robes).

At the reception in the Weasleys' backyard, I was seated with all the other Hogwarts-aged kids. Molly wanted to keep an eye on me, but she was too distracted with the other guests. At my end of the table were Gabrielle, Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked like they desperately wanted to be in private -- to discuss, I knew, their plans to find the Horcruxes. Gabrielle, who spoke almost no English, looked bored. And Ginny, whom I loved more than anyone in the world, looked sad and hurt. I wanted to sing a song with her, which always cheered her up when she was older and I was younger. But I didn't think I could do anything in the here and now.

Eventually, Ron and Hermione got into a Wizarding version of Rock-Paper-Scissors (in which wands are used, and ghostly versions of the three choices beat each other up over the participants' heads), and Ginny and Harry bent their heads in deep conversation. I picked at my food and pretended to not listen.

Unfortunately for me, my parents were good at discouraging eavesdroppers -- all I could hear was a slight buzz. A couple times, though, I heard a word or two slip out: "Slughorn," "July," "spy."

The last one turned my blood cold. Mum had warned me about this, that she remembered my being suspected of treachery. She said that Harry would spike my drink with Veritaserum.

I decided to get the supposed truthtelling over with as soon as possible, so I got up to go to the loo. When I came back, my parents were pointedly not looking at me. I figured that the drink had been spiked. What they didn't know was that in my satchel, along with my father's Invisibility Cloak and a host of other things that would come in handy, I had the antidote, which I'd taken while in the loo.

I made a point of taking a sip of my drink first thing. Then I did my best impression of someone under the effect of a little bit of Veritaserum -- I'd seen Ron in that state once when I was young, while he was in Auror training -- and folded my hands in my lap, waiting for the questions.

Harry hesitated, then seemed to steel himself against his discomfort. Ginny was sitting between the two of us, so he leaned over my mother and looked into my eyes. I did my best to look blank.

"Who are you?"

"Susan Hopkins," I said flatly. I knew the trick here was to not say a word more than necessary.

"Why are you here?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"Are you related to the Weasleys?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"My father and Molly are second cousins," I said.

Harry let out a breath. "Are you with us? Or with the Death Eaters?"

"My loyalty is with the Weasleys. I know He Who Must Not Be Named is evil, and I set myself against him and his minions."

Ron and Hermione were watching, both of them wide-eyed. "Harry, mate, what did you do to her?" asked Ron.

"Shh," said Ginny, who'd been watching the entire exchange with rapt attention.

"What do you know of the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked.

"I know my family has been involved in it since the first Wizarding War. I know that they claimed loyalty to Albus Dumbledore."

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the Brits at the table winced. The loss had still been recent to them. As for me, I'd never met him, though I'd had a few discussions with his portrait.

"Do you stand with the Ministry?" my father asked.

"I don't know anything about the Ministry. I've spent the past nine years in America."

Harry nodded. "All right." Then he looked uncertain. "What do we do with her now?"

"You didn't put in enough for it to last that long," Ginny said shrewdly. "It'll wear off in ten minutes or so."

"You used VERITASERUM on her?" squeaked Hermione. "Harry, that's ILLEGAL!"

Harry glared at her. "Slughorn taught me how to make it. I told him I was studying for the N.E.W.T., and he sent me instructions. Actually, I think he knew what it was for, but -- anyway. I think it'll come in handy very shortly."

Hermione opened her mouth, then glanced at Ron and closed it again. Ron, for his part, was staring at me in awe. "You mean she has to tell the truth now, no matter what?" he asked.

"Yes, but don't abuse it," hissed Hermione.

"Oi, Susan, how'm I looking in these new robes?" Ron asked, striking a pose.

I stared at him as blankly as I could manage. "Like my cousin."

The girls doubled over in laughter. "Nice one, Ron," Ginny said between giggles.

Ron scowled. Hermione controlled herself, put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled. "You look very handsome, Ron," she said, and Ron's face went pink.

"Let's just leave her be till she comes out of it," Ginny said kindly, and they resumed their private talks. A little while later, I shook my head briskly and blinked in what I hoped was a convincing manner.

"Goodness! I must be more tired from traveling than I thought," I said.

They all peered at me apprehensively. I was glad that none of them had actually seen the aftereffects of Veritaserum, so I didn't have to make a big production. "Are you all right, Susan?" Ginny asked.

"I think so," I said, putting a hand to my forehead. "Maybe I'd better lie down. Do you know if Aunt Molly decided where I'd be staying?" Calling her "Aunt Molly" had been my grandmother's idea; she thought it would help to reinforce the illusion that I was her cousin's daughter.

"Let me set you up in Bill's old room," Ginny said. "You can kip there. It's not as though he'll be coming back to live here any time soon; I'm sure Mum and Bill won't mind."

"Cheers," I said, and followed her. Tell the truth, I was exhausted -- it had been mid-afternoon in my time when I'd started my trip, but I'd jumped to this time in the mid-morning, so I had "timelag."

The house was quiet, despite the celebration happening in the yard. "It's a good thing the weather held," she said. "It would've been a disaster if we'd had to move indoors."

"Quite," I said. I was rather at a loss for words. She was my mother, for heaven's sake. She'd taken me shoe shopping and gotten me bright green galoshes when I begged her for them. She'd bought me horribly sugary cold cereals like Frosted Quaffles and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor-O's. She'd sent me off to Muggle primary school every morning with a sack lunch, and cried her eyes out the day she finally put me on the Hogwarts Express. She'd shown me every picture of my father she could scrounge up, and told me every story about him she could remember. And now she was looking at me like she barely knew me . . . which was, unfortunately for me, completely true.

Bill's room was on the third floor. He had posters of Wizarding bands all over, and a few of faraway places like China and Australia. From the cleanliness of the desk and the emptiness of the closet, it was clear Bill hadn't actually lived in his room for years.

"You'll be all right here," Ginny said. "I'll tell Mum I put you in here. D'you have luggage besides that satchel?"

"No . . . my mum might ship me some stuff, but I'm not sure," I said, deliberately being obtuse. In truth, though I had plenty of money, I didn't have much in the way of possessions. Hermione had said it was a good idea to travel as light as possible when traveling through time.

"Let me go get you some sleep things," she offered. "We look to be about the same size." When I opened my mouth to protest, she smiled. "I'm on the same floor; it's no trouble." She popped out; I heard her rummaging in drawers, and soon she popped back in with a set of PJs that looked old but clean.

"Thank you, Ginny. You've been very kind to me."

She started a little. "You're welcome." A pause. "Harry takes a while to warm up to people."

I hadn't meant to cast aspersions on my father, but I was beginning to see more and more why they'd ended up together. "I understand." I decided to take a small risk. "You two make a lovely couple."

She blushed, much like Ron had when Hermione had called him handsome. "We're not together."

"Oh? You act like it, is all."

"We . . . were, once upon a time." She sighed. "It's complicated."

I patted her gingerly on the arm. Now was the time to plant the seed for something that would bloom later. "I never know whether to tell people this, but . . . ."

She looked at me sharply. "What?"

"Well, I'm a Seer. I'm not great at it, 'cause I'm still young and my old school wasn't that great for Divination, but I can See . . . ."

She grabbed my arm. "What? What do you see?"

I looked into her eyes, which were almost frantic. "Neither of you will ever love another."

Her shoulders sagged as she looked at the floor. "That could mean a lot of things. That could mean we both die tomorrow."

"No," I said without thinking. She looked back at me. "I See you older, teaching a little girl to tie her shoes."

Ginny smiled, and her eyes filled with tears. "I hope you're right." Then she dashed the tears from her eyes and cleared her throat. "I'd better get back to the party."

With that, she left. I changed into her pajamas and crawled into Bill's bed. In a few breaths, I was asleep. 


	4. The Wood of Lost Souls

I dreamt. 

_In my dream, I am hiding in the coat closet of me and Mum's flat. I am fourteen. Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi are talking in the kitchen, and I am eavesdropping._

_"It's not time yet," Mum says._

_"It's getting to be time," Aunt Mi-Mi says. "She was in your year, do you remember?"_

_"Of COURSE I remember," Mum hisses. "I remember that whole awful time just as well or better than you."_

_There is silence for a moment, and then I hear my mum again. "I'm sorry. I know it's not called for. But I lost him; I can't lose her, too."_

_"You have to send her. That's the way it happens."_

_"Who cares how it happened for us?" my mum cries._

_"I talked to Dumbledore about it once," Aunt Mi-Mi muses. She has that tone of voice she uses when she's talking about a particularly tricky Charm she's testing at work. "He said that time only happens once, really. The way that we remember things happening, that's what happened. She could no more go back and change what we remember than she could stay here for her sixth year. She has to go back, and things will happen the way we remember them."_

_My mum sounds close to tears. "I don't want her to go, Hermione."_

_"I know," Aunt Mi-Mi says, and this time her voice is very gentle. "I would never send my children back if I could help it. But you know the only way we survived that year was because of her."_

_"I don't even understand it. It all seems so circular," Mum says, and she sounds weary._

_"Only because we're living inside time. From outside, it's all perfectly logical," my aunt assures her._

_"Will it make sense to her?" Mum wonders._

_"She's a smart girl," Aunt Mi-Mi says. "And we'll prepare her as best we can. But I'm telling you, Ginny, that that preparation had better start sooner rather than later. There's a lot she needs to know."_

_"Too much," Mum says. "Too much for a child."_

_"She's no more a child than you were the day you let Harry go. The war took our childhoods, Ginny, and I hate that Susan has to sacrifice hers as well, but you know as well as I do that she is vital to the war's end. If she's not sufficiently prepared --"_

_"All right. All right. Can you start Flooing over after work? There's a lot you know that I don't."_

_"Not THAT much, Ginny. But yes -- I'll ask Molly if she can start doing a little more babysitting. She'll understand when I explain it to her."_

_"Yes." I hear Mum tap her fingernails against her teacup. "I hate to do this to her."_

_"Do you know, I'm almost jealous of her?"_

_"Hermione!" Mum gasps._

_"No, I mean it. I was terrified those last few years at Hogwarts, but at the same time . . . well, for one thing, Harry was there. And for another, it was exciting, Ginny! There'll never be another time like that."_

_"Thank heavens," Mum says acidly._

_"I know, Ginny. But there is romance in the heroic life."_

_"Don't let Ron hear you say that," Mum laughs. "You'll end up with another Weasley."_

_My aunt scoffs, "Not bloody likely! Three is enough, thank you!"_

_They both laugh, and I am left to sit and wonder. They were obviously talking about me! What could they have possibly have meant?_

There was a noise in Bill's bedroom, and I awoke with a start. I found myself looking at Harry, who was perched on the foot of my bed watching me.

I sat up. "Harry?"

He jumped off the bed. "Susan. Hi."

"What on earth are you doing in my room?"

"I'm so sorry." He turned to go.

"No, don't go." I pushed the covers off me and sat up. "Is something the matter? Is everyone all right?"

"Everyone's fine. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Please, Harry. What is it?" He looked at his feet again and mumbled something. "I can't hear you."

He looked up at me at last, and his eyes were suspiciously wet. "I thought . . . maybe . . . well, you look a lot like my mum."

My heart thumped painfully. Poor, poor Dad. To never know his parents. I knew about halfway how he felt. "Is she dead?"

He nodded. "I thought maybe . . . it was stupid, really. I've seen a sort of ghost of her before, and I though maybe you'd -- she'd -- come to help me."

"Help you do what?"

At this, his face closed over. "Nothing."

Now was my chance. I stood up and approached him. "Harry, did Ginny tell you I'm a Seer?"

Harry looked at me through narrowed eyes. "No."

"You haven't had a good relationship with Divination, I know," I said. "Trelawney will do that to a person." His eyes merely narrowed further. "I don't claim to know everything. I certainly can't read your mind or anything. But I know what you're looking for."

"Get off it," he snarled. "You can't possibly."

"But I do," I said. "And I know where the locket is."

Harry looked like he wanted to slap me across the face. "Don't you dare! How did you hear about that? No one knows!!"

"If I can tell you anything to make you believe me, I will." Harry was silent. "Fine. Well, let me tell you one thing I See about you." I closed my eyes for effect and searched the back of my mind for a story about Dad. "All right.

"I See you at age four or thereabouts. I See your cousin Dudley. You've just found a caterpillar on the hosta that grows alongside the greenhouse at Four Privet Drive. It's black with red spots. You can't see it very well, because your uncle and aunt haven't figured out yet that you need glasses. But you seem to like the caterpillar. You're cradling in your little toddler hands."

Harry was holding his breath. I went on: "After a couple minutes, Dudley figures out that you've found something that you like. He comes over and says, 'Oi! Give it here, stupid!' But you just keep quiet and hold it against your chest.

"Dudley screams at you again to give it to him. You hold it tighter. Then Dudley wrenches your arms away from your chest and forces open your fingers. But . . . ." I looked into his face. I'd never seen that expression on anyone's face before -- it was a sort of profound grief mixed with fierce pride. "The caterpillar's gone. Instead there's a black butterfly with red spots. And before Dudley can grab it, it takes flight and flutters off to the greenhouse."

"How did you do that?" he rasped.

I shrugged. "It's an odd sort of gift, I have to be honest. I get some things and not others." For a moment, I almost believed myself. How much would he have hated me had I told him that Ron had whisked Dudley off to St. Mungo's one day to collect a batch of memories of Harry for Hermione's Pensieve? Harry couldn't abide liars, I knew that much.

"And you know where the locket is?" he asked urgently.

"I do," I said gently. "But I think you should come to Hogwarts with us."

"What??"

"I'll tell you where the locket is. I know it's vitally important, and I would never dream of withholding that information. But I also know when the best time would be to go retrieve it, and it's not for a couple months." He shook his head, but I pressed on. "Come back to Hogwarts, Harry. In your absence, rumors will spread. The students will be frightened. What will you and Ron and Hermione do after graduation if you don't revise for at least part of your seventh year?" I paused. "And you're hurting Ginny."

He glared at me. "It's for HER sake. It's hurting me, too."

"So be with her, but do it quietly. You've kept secrets before."

He studied me for a moment. "Why did you come here?"

Mentally, I gave him points for shrewdness. "To help you."

"Why?"

"Because you're family, dammit," I said. "You know perfectly well Molly loves you dearly. And Ginny will love you until the end of the world." In my mind, an image flashed of my mother, sobbing silently over a cup of tea when she thought I wasn't watching. "Ron and Hermione love you like a brother. I Saw how much you have to accomplish, and I knew I could help."

This answer, surprisingly, seemed to satisfy him. "Go on, then. Where's the locket?"

"Sirius Black's brother took it and couldn't destroy it. So he put it in a place where he thought He Who Must Not Be Named would never dare go."

"Where??"

"There's a forest in the north of Wales, on the Isle of Anglesey, called the Wood of Lost Souls," I said quietly. "There was a horrible Wizarding battle there many years ago, and all the dead became ghosts. Regulus Black knew that He Who Must Not Be Named abhors the thought of death, so he thought the Wood would be the best hiding place."

Harry seemed almost to vibrate with excitement. "And why shouldn't I go right now?"

I tried to quell him with a look. "Because the Wood is full of ghosts, Harry. Not just any ghosts, either. They're angry -- they never chose to be ghosts -- and they're trapped with their enemies as well as their comrades for all eternity. They've been there for ages, and they've managed to kill many a wizard who's wandered in."

"How could a ghost kill anyone?" asked Harry in annoyed disbelief.

"They've been there so long, the creatures who live there more or less answer to them now. And that's plants as well as animals. The ghosts hate living people, so they'll sic the forest on anyone who enters. People who've been missing for a week -- their bodies are found completely grown over by moss, or devoured by legions of rats."

Harry shuddered. "Then when can I go?"

I smiled. "Hallowe'en."

He stared at me. "Hallowe'en?"

"You went to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party in your second year, right?" I asked. He looked startled. "Look, Harry, just get used to my knowing things about you." I wanted to tell him about the nights when Ron and Hermione would babysit for me and go back and forth in their inimitable way, chronicling all their adventures with my father. "Anyway. You know that the Hogwarts ghosts don't leave the castle. Normally, ghosts don't leave the place they haunt. But on Hallowe'en, the boundary between the spirit world and the real world is blurry. Then the spirits can roam free. That's why we celebrate it in the Wizarding world. That's why all those ghosts could attend Nick's party."

"And the ghosts leave the Wood?"

"They hate the Wood, so yes, they leave. They generally go back to their home villages in Wales and England. That's when you and Ron and Hermione should go and find Slytherin's locket."

Harry pursed his lips. "But what about Hufflepuff's cup? And the other two Horcruxes? I can't just skive off the hunt for two months."

"I'm afraid that you'll come to harm if you rush off rashly," I said, trying to keep my tone hushed and urgent. "I think you and all your friends will be better served if you stay at Hogwarts until Hallowe'en."

He looked at me, suspicion dawning again. "How do I know I should trust you?"

I shrugged. "Aunt Molly does. As does Ginny. I can't give you any further proof that I'm on your side. Do as you wish."

He backed towards the door. "You haven't told anyone else about the locket?"

"Harry, I won't tell anyone anything about the Horcruxes except you. I See that this is your burden to carry."

He nodded curtly, and I knew he appreciated my discretion. Then he was gone. I fell back asleep soon after, and this time I didn't dream at all.


	5. Good Men Do Nothing

So it was that Ron, Hermione, and Harry did end up going to Hogwarts for at least the first part of their seventh years. As for me, I was excited to go back to school, even if it was my school eighteen years in the past. I'd brought a letter from Professor McGonagall explaining at least part of my situation so I could just go into my N.E.W.T. levels like I'd planned. I was rather dedicated to my studies, probably partly because of Aunt Hermione's influence, and partly because my mother had always insisted that bravery was all well and good, but without knowledge to back it up, bravery was foolishness. (Upon hearing her say that, Aunt Hermione had looked rather surprised. I often got the feeling that my mother had changed a lot since her school years.)

I was a Gryffindor, of course. How could I not be, with Harry Potter for a father and Ginny Weasley for a mother? I'd known for the past two years that I'd have to jump back in time to help defeat Voldemort, but I'd never tried to evade the journey. I knew I had to be brave for my father's sake.

About three weeks after the wedding, on the morning we would go to King's Cross, I was packing my school things. I'd gone shopping with the rest of the Weasleys and Harry (Hermione had gone home to her parents for the period between the wedding and start of term), and Diagon Alley was just like it was in my time, though less populated, what with the threat of Voldemort. I was comforted by the fact that I knew I would at least survive until June.

Molly had also let me loose long enough to buy a couple sets of school robes and some Muggle clothing. I'd been wearing hand-me-downs from Ginny, but I didn't want anyone receiving any further reminder how much I resembled her. Better to wear a completely different wardrobe. Thankfully, though a couple people had remarked that I looked very "Weasley-ish," only Molly had instantly recognized me for what I was. I chalked that up to a mother's instinct, one that my own mother had yet to develop.

Since Ron, Harry, and Hermione all had their Apparition licenses, they Apparated to King's Cross, and Arthur went with them. Ginny and I were left to Floo with Molly to London and walk the short distance to King's Cross. We met up with the seventh-years there.

Arthur was deep in conversation with his son and his friends when we arrived. I felt guilty that Arthur hadn't been made aware of my real identity, but Molly insisted that Arthur had a terrible poker face, and that Ginny would have sensed that something was amiss.

When we approached, he turned and faced Ginny. "This goes for you too, young lady," he said. "I need for you to be terribly careful this year. I know there are things you think you can do to help, and I appreciate that your contributions are substantive, but I can't lose you, d'you understand?"

I remembered, with a pang, hearing my mother tell me the exact same thing before I left her, eighteen years from now.

Ginny looked a little sullen, but she said, "Yes, Dad."

"Good." Arthur looked at me critically. "Enjoy Hogwarts, Susan. There's nowhere else like it in the world."

I smiled tentatively. "So I've heard."

"Very well." He kissed all of us on our cheeks, and said, "You're old enough that we don't have to follow you onto the platform, right, Molly?"

But Molly glared at him furiously, and soon we were all through the barrier. I smelled the smoke of the Express and remembered my days at Hogwarts, all my friends . . . Elisabeth Wood, Jamie Lupin, my cousin Edouard Weasley . . . .

"Susan, aren't you coming?" I awoke from my reverie to see Ginny climbing aboard the train.

"Yup!" I waved to Arthur, then, before I could stop myself, ran back to Molly.

"Grandma, I'm going to miss you so much," I whispered. "I hate lying to them."

She squeezed me hard, then took me by the shoulders. "It's for the best, Susan. Now go help your parents."

I smiled and ran back to the train, which was gearing up to leave the station. I found my relations quickly; Neville was also in the compartment. I only knew Neville a little; he had moved to Ireland when I was young, and only came back to visit the old crowd on particularly momentous occasions.

Hermione and Ron lingered only for a few moments; as Head Boy and Girl, they had duties around the train. Ginny and Harry sat alongside one another, their fingers inconspicuously laced together, their heads bent together in quiet, private conversation. I hoped looks weren't deceiving, and that Harry actually had taken my advice to heart. There was no need to hurt Mum any further.

Neville, rather at a loss, turned to me. "So, Susan, what subjects do you study?"

"Divination," I said immediately. Actually, I hated Divination -- in fact, I was lousy at it -- but I had to keep up the illusion that I was, in fact, a Seer in training. "Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Arithmancy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Whew!" said Neville. "Bit keen, are you? That's quite a load. Will I see you in Herbology?"

"No, I'm in Ginny's year," I explained.

"Too bad," he said and smiled. "The more, the merrier. Ron, Harry, and Hermione take Herbology, but they stick together."

"Oh, Hermione does Herbology?" I was surprised; I knew Hermione was taking at least five other classes at the N.E.W.T. level.

Neville laughed. "Hermione does EVERYTHING. Well, not at the N.E.W.T. level. But third year, she took all twelve subjects!"

"Goodness!" I cried. "I've never heard of anyone taking so many classes."

"Are the subjects the same in America, then?" Neville asked.

"Mostly," I said carefully. "Our Care of Magical Creatures is just called Magizoology, and it's less practical work than you lot do. Arithmancy is standard for all students, but Herbology isn't. Everyone takes a fine arts class; you get to choose whether it's in art, music, or creative writing. We also have electives in Wizarding Culture for Muggleborn kids."

"Oh, I like the sound of that! I'm not half bad at writing, but I'd like a class," Neville said fervently.

"Yeah, we enjoy them." I tried to imagine a course at Hogwarts in creative writing. The thought of my friends and I sitting around and giggling over horribly rhymed verses came over me, and I grinned involuntarily. On the other hand, Neville was right -- the British magical school system left something to be desired in terms of culture. The Americans were a bit more liberal in their curricula. It almost made me wish my story were true.

We reached the school without any Slytherin interferences -- Harry informed me that Draco Malfoy, the head of what he termed the "Death Eater Youth League," had fled school the previous spring, and his followers were not very proactive.

When we reached the castle itself, I sought out Headmistress McGonagall, who was preparing herself to give a speech to the first-years when they arrived.

"Headmistress, I need to give this to you," I said, and handed her a letter sealed with the crest of Hogwarts. She herself had given it to me before I left.

She looked at me quizzically, having no idea who I was or what I was doing in her school. Upon opening the letter, she went white, but to her credit, she read it through. I saw her reach the end, then breathe a few times before she lifted her eyes from the page.

"Ms. Potter, I take it you are traveling under an alias?"

"My surname is believed to be Hopkins," I said carefully. "I'm under Molly Weasley's protection as a long-lost cousin."

"Convenient," she sniffed. "It seems our Hat places you in Gryffindor in the year 2010."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You wish to be appointed to Gryffindor for this . . . temporary stay?"

"If you please, ma'am."

She stared at me for a moment. "You are exceedingly polite, and in that way take after neither of your parents."

I smiled a litle. "Aunt Hermione had a profound effect on me, ma'am."

She thought for a moment, then grinned unexpectedly. "Ah, yes. Of course. Well, take a seat with your Housemates."

I did so, and heard her as I left calling to the first-years to assemble and "sharpen up."

At the table, my relations were happy to see me, though a bit puzzled. "You won't be Sorted?" Hermione asked.

I shrugged, trying to look nonplussed. "McGonagall said there's no point, as I'll only be here two years. She said I might as well be with my family."

Before anyone could comment, the Sorting started. I recognized a few surnames, and I supposed they were older siblings or cousins of my own classmates.

The Start of Term feast was appropriately subdued. Although McGonagall sat in the Headmistress's chair, there was an empty place at her right-hand side symbolizing Dumbledore's absence. Her start-of-term speech was short and sad.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe that there has rarely been a more dangerous time to be a student at Hogwarts," she said, and some murmurs followed the statement. "Nor," she rejoined sharply, "has there been a more important one. Only when good bands together can evil be vanquished. A very wise Muggle once said, 'All that is required for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing.' Perhaps you all must do nothing now, as most of you are still children. But we are giving you the tools here to enter the Wizarding world and become forces for good, no matter when you finally step outside these castle walls for the last time. Only through learning to defend yourselves and protect others can you truly be credits to Hogwarts.

"Let me say this now: there are some among you, I know, who do not feel an affinity with all your fellow students. I ask merely that you do no harm to yourself or any other student. I will consider that payment enough for all the services rendered here.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Albus Dumbledore is dead because some men have allowed their petty grievances to become the lodestones by which they steer their lives. This is a terrible tragedy on many levels. I wish to tell you all that if you ever feel your hearts being pulled towards the Dark, I will come to you, any time of the day or night, and help you to realize that hate begets hate. Nothing good or right or true or just can come of hatred. Please remember this as you begin this year."

With that, she sat down. I, for one, was stunned. The McGonagall I knew was serious, yes, but that speech had been astoundingly somber. But I looked around the Hall and saw that most people didn't even sport a glimmer of surprise.

It was at that moment, more than any one that had come before it, that I began to gain an appreciation for living life in a time of war. I had the advantage in this situation: I knew, to a certain extent, everything that would happen over the coming year. And while my parents were in the thick of it, much moreso than anyone else's, I knew my mother would live.

As for my father . . . .

The truth was, no one knew what would become of Harry during his final battle with Voldemort. Nor, for that matter, of me.

Neville nudged my elbow gently. "Susan, you'd better eat before it all gets whisked away."

I blinked. "Yes. Thank you." I tried to lighten the mood a tad. "I've never seen so much food! We have a buffet-style cafeteria at my old school."

Hermione suddenly took a great interest in my old school. "Really? Buffet?"

"Yes; you take what you want and then get a seat," I said. I suddenly became very grateful to Hermione herself for making me read stacks of books about the Wizarding school I was purporting to have come from.

"And who makes your food?" she asked. I saw Harry and Ron begin to get looks on their face that indicated that they were not thrilled with this line of conversation.

"We have . . . you know, cooks. They're wizards and witches who generally didn't finish school."

"People!" she cried explosively. "You have PEOPLE making your food?"

Oh. I knew where this was going. I wanted to tell Hermione that she would indeed succeed in freeing the elves, given another decade or so, but I didn't think that this would be convincing, even from a Seer. "Yes. Not very many. My school isn't that big, it's not like Hogwarts. American schools don't serve the whole country."

"But they're paid workers!"

I tried to look baffled. "Yes, of course."

"This is exactly what I mean!" she exclaimed, and proceeded to excoriate Hogwarts for its continued use of house-elves. I was momentarily startled at the use of the old, pejorative term, before I realized that it was an older Hermione who had consigned it to the annals of history.

"Thank you so much for getting her started," groused Ron, which earned him a nasty look from Hermione.

By the time pudding was served, Hermione had wound down, much to everyone's relief. Harry didn't say two words together the entire night -- it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Ginny, taking her cue from her boyfriend, was also very quiet. I imagined that they hadn't expected to be sitting here, and the absence of Dumbledore in the Great Hall was a pang they hadn't thought they'd experience again.

Ron and Hermione were a little cheerier. In fact, Ron had begun to make a speech, imitating Hermione's latest elves' right tirade, about "the rights and welfare of seventh-year Gryffindor boys." I decided to tease them, as I'd never gotten the opportunity in my own time, and they were ripe for teasing. "How long have you two been together?" I asked politely.

Neville made a sound that sounded like a snort and ended in a cough. Ginny hissed with barely controlled laughter. Harry just peered at his friends and waited for an answer. For their parts, Hermione and Ron were sitting stock-still, their utensils forgotten in their hands.

"We're not --" Hermione began, then looked at Harry, then back at me. "That is, we --"

Ron sighed. "Oh, get off it, you. Two months now."

Ginny grinned, though Harry looked a bit startled. "Oh," he said. "I knew -- well. Congratulations," he said, and now he seemed to be hiding a smile.

"Yes, well done, the both of you," Ginny said, deliberately being pompous.

"Well, it's high time we got to the common room," Hermione said briskly. Behind her, a fifth-year Prefect called for the first-years to follow her, and we trailed behind the new Gryffindors, who seemed awestruck by absolutely everything. I did my best to emulate them.

The common room was at once achingly familiar and bizarrely out of joint. I kept expecting to see a familiar face, but at every turn I saw strangers.

"I hope the room's adjusted itself to give you a bed," Ginny said. "I'm knackered, and you look it, too."

I yawned. "Righto. Off to Bedfordshire."

Ginny gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush even now, and then led me to the sixth-years' dormitory. It was not the room I'd been in all my years at Hogwarts, which made me feel rather like I was trespassing, but I pushed down the feeling.

"Brilliant!" she said. "This bed by mine is new; it's got to be yours."

"Cheers, Ginny," I said fervently. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smiled. "Family's family."

"Yes," I said, "but all the same."

She fell asleep before I did, and I started thinking about the next day, when I'd have to start taking classes and interacting with people beyond my little circle. I wondered just how I was going to fit into this crazy year. 


	6. Wands, Cups, and Swords

_Author's Note: I am indebted to the website for the thorough explanations of the meanings of each card. If I've treated the tarot fairly here, it's thanks to that site._

_If you've read this far, please do take the time to review. It's the only way for me to know what's working and what's not. Now, on with the show._

My first class was Herbology. To my surprise, I saw Neville heading the same way after breakfast as I was. "Neville!" I called, and swiftly caught up to him.

He smiled at me. "Morning, Susan."

"Why are you headed for the greenhouses?"

"Sprout's not got enough students at the N.E.W.T. level to split us up anymore. So sixth- and seventh-years are together this term."

I let out a rush of air. "I have to admit, I'm relieved to know someone!"

"Yeah, you don't get many Gryffindors in Herbology," he said. "We're much more for Defense and Transfiguration."

I could tell from his tone of voice he took neither. "I love Herbology," I said, to deflect his small bout of self-pity. "It's one of my favorite subjects."

He brightened instantly. "Is it? It's my favorite. I'm doing independent study with Sprout as well. I'd like to be an Herbologist, though it's quite a competitive field."

I tried to think what the Neville of my time did, but drew a blank. Mum never really talked about him, and I doubt he had ever spoken more than a sentence or two to me. "Well, if Sprout thinks highly enough of you to take you on as an independent study, I'm sure you're brilliant at it."

He ducked his head in embarrassment.

At Greenhouse Two, I surveyed the class. There were only a dozen and a half students there -- did they, along with me and Neville, represent the entirety of the N.E.W.T.-level students in Herbology?

I tried to wrap my mind around this, then realized that Neville's cohort had been born when Voldemort was still in power -- as had my peers in the year below. In my own time, the ranks of the school had swelled enormously as I went through; my year was the first to be born after Voldemort's vanquishing, and the average class size after my year climbed and climbed with each sucessive class. Wizards and witches were far less leery of bringing children into a world without Voldemort.

Before class, I went to explain my situation to Professor Sprout. She didn't look any different than I'd known her, which put me at ease. "Professor Sprout," I began.

She turned to me and looked taken aback. "Ginny Weasley, what ARE you doing here? You didn't elect this N.E.W.T."

I swallowed hard. No one had actually mistaken me for Ginny yet. "I'm not Ginny Weasley, ma'am," I said.

She squinted, then got a little closer. "Silly me," she said. "Ginny doesn't have pretty green eyes like that, does she? You must be a relation."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, relieved. "I'm her cousin. I've transferred to Hogwarts this term."

"Excellent," she said briskly. "I hope you enjoy Hogwarts. Keen on Herbology?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, go take a station."

I escaped from her shrewd gaze and took a spot between Hermione and Neville. Ron and Harry were standing on Hermione's other side. "This term," Sprout announced, "we are going to look at wandmaking from an Herbology standpoint. You will notice that this greenhouse is full of wand trees -- the cherry is to my right, birch to my left, and behind me are several others: rowan, willow, oak, ash, beech. Trees must be grown and maintained extremely carefully to become the sheaths for the magical substances found in wand cores. Japanese wizards and witches use a technique called bonsai, and as this is becoming more and more accepted in the Western Wizarding world, it's the technique we'll be using this term.

"You'll be working in pairs on trees. This will last at least till Christmastime. If you could all choose a partner now . . . ?"

I was stricken. I wanted to pair with one of the seventh-years, but I didn't want to separate them from each other. I saw Ron and Harry give Hermione a look, and she nodded. The two boys wandered off together to choose a tree.

Now the only logical thing was for Neville and Hermione to work together, but that left me with a stranger. Hermione sensed my distress. "It's all right!" she whispered. "I know Susan Bones from -- well, I know her, anyway, and she'll be stuck by herself when Justin and Ernie pair off, now that Hannah's left."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but sure enough, she approached a pretty girl wearing a Hufflepuff Alice band, and the two of them started chatting about which tree they wanted. I turned to Neville. "That was sweet of her," I remarked.

"Yes," he agreed. "Which tree would you like?"

"I've not got a preference, really."

"My wand's cherry wood."

"Mine's rosewood, and that's not here," I said. "I think you can't grow it in Britain."

Before we could claim the cherry for our own, though, another pair had taken it. "Come on, let's get the rowan," Neville said, and staked it out before anyone else could.

"Why the rowan?" I asked.

He looked at me for a moment, then laid a hand against the tiny tree. "It's protection against evil."

I declined to comment, but also put a hand on the tree. It was warm and felt surprisingly solid for something so small.

Class that day was a lecture on wand trees, though we were encouraged to "bond" with our tree. "The more interaction with magic a tree has while it's growing, the better wand wood you can get from the tree," Sprout told us, so I, trying not to feel silly, patted one of my tree's boughs.

My other class that day was Divination. In my time, the professor was a witch by the name of Professor Krauss; she was a Seer who had correctly predicted the winner of the Quidditch World Cup for seven years running. (She was now banned from making any bets on any Wizarding sporting events.) She described herself as a "small-time Seer," saying that she hoped that one of us could do her one better by actually "Seeing things that matter."

In my parents' time, though, I knew I had to either face Professor Trelawney, the slightly insane, mostly fraudelent excuse for a Professor, or Firenze, who didn't much care for human forms of Divination. While I was mostly rubbish at Divination, and therefore didn't care for it, I knew it wasn't a waste of time. I also knew Firenze and Trelawney would make terrible professors.

For this class, I was only with sixth-years; Divination had enough of a following that we were split up. (I suspected this was because it was fairly easy to fake one's way through the O.W.L.) I didn't know anyone in the class, so I sat off by myself. My year had Trelawney, at least for now.

The subject for this term, she told us in tones so breathy I could barely hear her, was the Tarot. Well, I thought, that was better than having to squint into the crystal ball for hours without seeing anything. The Tarot was all about context and clues.

We had to pair up again, and I found myself with the other odd witch out: a moon-faced girl with long blonde hair who seemed, quite frankly, to be out to lunch. "I'm Susan Hopkins," I said.

She focused on my face for the first time. "You look rather like Ginny Weasley," was her response.

"She's my cousin," I said.

"Mmm," was her only response.

There was a moment of silence. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I said.

"I haven't said it yet. But it's Luna Lovegood."

My breath caught in my throat. Oh. Luna. I'd forgotten about her. "I'm -- uh -- I'm pleased to meet you."

"You don't look it," she said thoughtfully. "That's all right."

"We should start the assignment," I suggested.

"Yes, I'll spread and you can read," she said. She began making a simplified, six-card Celtic Cross with her cards, the first and most basic spread we'd be learning. I consulted my textbook to help read it.

"Well, the first card is -- oh. The Devil. Well, that's clearly He Who Must Not Be Named," I said. "That's supposed to be the heart of your concerns."

Luna's eyes open even wider. "That's true!"

"The second card is the Knight of Wands. The book says . . . a passionate, adventurous young man; associated with fire. It's supposed to be a 'contrary influence' to the first card." We looked at each other.

"Well, that's obvious," Luna said matter-of-factly.

I nodded and moved on. "The third card is the thing that underlies your whole life. You've got the Queen of Cups."

Luna stared down at the card and traced one finger over it. "That's my mother."

I didn't ask. "The fourth card is your past. You've got the Five of Cups, which is . . . ." I flipped frantically through my book. "Let's see. Um, 'bereavement, loss.'" I looked up at her. "Is it . . . was it your mother?"

She nodded, still staring at her cross.

I was growing more and more uncomfortable. I didn't having a Divining bone in my body, but apparently Luna did; the cards had responded to her, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. "The fifth card is your convictions. You have the Ace of Swords. That's, er, that's intelligence and reason."

"The Sorting Hat is quite clever," she remarked. I inferred that she was a Ravenclaw.

"The last card is the future." I stopped. The Hanged Man stared back at both of us. I broke the quiet. "This is silly," I said. "It's just a card."

"Go one, read what the book says," Luna said quietly.

I cleared my throat. "'Ultimate sacrifice,'" I read.

We were both quiet for a while. Other students were laughing over the absurdity of their cards; I couldn't even muster a smile.

Finally Luna looked up at me. "You believe in this."

It wasn't what I'd been expecting her to say. Agreeing with her was easier than explaining how I knew the cards were right. "Yes."

She thought for a minute. "I don't know if I do. I believe in some fairly unbelievable things. I have to think about this one." Then she scooped up the cards, Hanged Man and all, and shuffled the Tarot deck. "You next?"

Predictably, my cards told me nothing. Luna tried to puzzle over the secondary or even tertiary meanings of them to suss out what they could mean. I didn't bother. I'd barely scraped an "A" on my Divination O.W.L.; it was only because Professor Krauss knew that I needed to at least make it to my sixth year that she allowed me continue. Five N.E.W.T.s was plenty; I would drop this ruddy subject as soon as I got back to my time. If I managed to get back to my time.

At dinner that night, Neville was chattering excitedly to me about the tree project; I was scarcely listening. In a way, being at Hogwarts in this time was like living amongst ghosts: some of the children around me -- too many -- would die before the year was up. It was my misfortune that I knew who, and how, and when.

Even the ones who lived would be completely changed by the year. Ron as I knew him in this time was constantly laughing and making fun of whomever and whatever he could. Though my Uncle Ron was a funny man, his good humor was tempered with much more gravitas when I knew him. He burned with a passionate intensity when it came to the just causes he and Hermione stood up for, but the crazy energy he'd once held seemed to have been quenched -- or perhaps it lay dormant in the absence of Harry's influence.

Better that than . . . I looked across the hall at Luna's table, where she sat reading a magazine. I thought of the image of the Hanged Man and shuddered.


	7. Born at the Wrong Time

_Though I usually post about one chapter every three days, I was very encouraged by the flurry of reviews on the last chapter, so I decided to post this a bit early. In general, if I receive enough reviews, it will definitely hasten the next chapter._

_My thanks to the reviewers, and my especial thanks to the multiple reviewers, particularly Miranda Took, who is as faithful a reader as an author could hope for!!_

Before I knew it, it was Hallowe'en. I was working like mad on all my N.E.W.T. classes, having meals with my parents and their friends, going to Quidditch matches to cheer on my father, mother, and uncle . . . and all of a sudden October was upon us, and within a few weeks, when the decorations were going up, Harry cornered me in the common room late one night.

"I need more information about the locket before I can go barging in there," he told me flatly.

I nodded. "You want to get Hermione and Ron? I'll tell all three of you at once."

Harry looked a little guilty. "I . . . ."

"Harry, you wouldn't leave them behind, would you? They deserve to be given the choice to come with you."

His face cleared. "Right, I'll get them." He hissed, "Expecto Patronum," and a white stag erupted from his wand and turned to face its master.

"Prongs, go find Ron and Hermione," he murmured.

His friends emerged ten minutes later or so. The Patronus was gone; I suspected it had dissipated when its mission was complete. Ron's hair was suspiciously out of place, and Hermione's lips seemed to be bruised. Neither Harry nor I commented, though I realized why Harry hadn't gone himself to find them.

"What's all this, then?" Ron asked. He sounded a bit out of sorts, and I didn't suppose I could blame him.

"Susan knows where Slytherin's locket is," Harry said shortly.

Hermione gasped. "How is that possible?"

I looked at Hermione measuredly. She would be the most difficult of all to convince; fortunately, I had the same ace up my sleeve that made Harry, another tough customer, believe in me. "I'm a Seer."

Hermione scoffed, "Oh, you can't be serious, Harry!"

Harry mumbled, "She knew stuff."

"'Knew stuff'? Oh, that's rich. You're famous, Harry! Everyone 'knows stuff' about you."

"Hermione," I broke in. "Hermione Jane Granger." I closed my eyes; she was mercifully silent. "I See . . . ." I opened them again, and stared straight at her. "Which would embarrass you less? What you said after Viktor Krum kissed you the first time, or when Ron did?"

Ron went scarlet. "Hey, you just WAIT a MINUTE -- !"

Hermione, to her credit, remained calm. "She doesn't know either. She's bluffing. Go ahead, tell me what I said when Viktor kissed me."

I closed my eyes again. "'Oh. My goodness, that's an interesting sensation!'"

When I opened them, Hermione had gone white as a ghost, and Ron was watching her with a mixture of amusement and fury. "You -- you awful cow! What did you do, hex Viktor until he told you??"

I was taken aback. "Good heavens, Hermione, I've never even met Viktor Krum. You want me to tell you the second thing?"

"NO!" roared Ron. "That's -- you can't know that!!"

I looked at them both silently. They were both fuming. Harry, for his part, was letting me duke it out with them without assisting or interfering.

Hermione cut in icily, "Well, there has to be a logical explanation for this. Magical eavesdropping or the like."

"What would it take for you to make you believe?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What number am I thinking of?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a Seer, not a Legilimens."

"But you can See the past?" she asked shrewdly.

"Yeah," I said. "It's called retrocognition; it's not uncommon for it to be the first thing young Seers can do."

Hermione shook this off; clearly her extensive reading had not extended into the realm of Divination. It would, later. "Can you See the future?"

I was a bit startled, but tried not to show it. I tried to say something that would work to my advantage. "The near future is easiest," I hedged. "The farther out, the hazier it gets. Past twenty years, I can't See anything."

"So tell me what I'll be doing in ten years," she challenged.

I wanted to tell her it was totally illogical for her to test me this way. After all, it would take her ten years to find out if I was right.

Then I realized she actually did believe me; she just wanted to have some idea of what lay ahead. Whether or not she would admit it to herself, she found the evidence convincing, and she wanted a taste of her future. Ten years would make it . . . 2007. I knew what would happen in 2007.

"All right," I said gamely, "but not in front of the boys."

She look startled, but nodded swiftly, and we retreated to a corner of the common room. She looked at me expectantly, almost desperately, and I found it comforting that I could reassure her.

"You're married to Ron," I said quietly. She flushed immediately, but didn't speak. "You've just had your first child. His name is Henry. You work for the Committee on Experimental Charms. Ron is an Auror. You live in a house near your parents. You're very close with Ginny."

"Voldemort? The war?" she queried anxiously.

How silly of me, to think she'd care about anything else at this moment. "It's been over for years."

"And Harry," she said, her voice betraying what she already suspected.

"Harry . . . ." I drew in a breath and tried not to give anything away with my face. "Harry's fate is for Harry to know."

She went white. "Dead," she whispered.

I shook my head. "Don't assume the worst."

But no hope returned to her face. "I hate this," she hissed. "I shouldn't have to worry about them being taken away from me." Involuntarily, I glanced back at the boys, whose expressions were unreadable. "They're the only friends I've ever had. I love them both so much, in different ways. I should be worrying about N.E.W.T.s and jobhunting, not about their deaths."

"I'm sorry," I said, knowing it was inadequate.

"Yes," she said vaguely. "It's all rather tragic. I suppose I was born at the wrong time."

"Does this mean you believe me?" I asked, attempting to bring her back to reality.

Her eyes focused again. "Hmm? Oh. I suppose I do, though I can't for the life of me understand why." She looked over at the boys. "Let's find out about this Horcrux."


	8. Hallowe'en

I did not expect to be able to come along on their first mission for a number of reasons. Firstly, I knew the story of the locket hunt, and I was not in it. Secondly -- and, oddly, this was the reason that was foremost in my mind -- I knew Harry would not accept help from anyone besides Ron and Hermione. They were the only people in the world he trusted implicitly now that Dumbledore was gone. Well, there was my mother, but he would rather have faced a Lethifold than put her in harm's way. 

I thought I would end up alone on Hallowe'en eve; Ginny had skipped the Feast entirely, preferring to remain in her dormitory, and the three agents of good had snuck away from the castle around midday. I was not a naturally effusive person, so my social circle had not substantially expanded since arriving at school.

I hadn't counted on Neville, though, who seemed to be as solitary as I most of the time. When he saw me alone, he brightened and sat down beside me.

"Where are your cousins and their crowd?" he asked me.

I knew Neville was absolutely trustworthy, yet I couldn't reveal the truth to him. "They disappeared today; Merlin knows what they're up to."

He looked a little crestfallen. "Oh, I thought maybe you knew. I worry about them."

"So do I," I said fervently; though logically I knew they'd be all right, I couldn't stop myself from being a little anxious on their behalves.

"What do you think of all this, then?" he asked, gesturing grandly at the live bats, dancing, lit pumpkins, and billowing orange drapes.

"It's quite imaginative," I said. "We never had anything quite so grand in America."

He nodded, but seemed to be distracted. Finally, with an almost pained look on his face, he said, "Susan, you know there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up in a week or so."

"Yes," I said, not cottoning on.

"I was thinking, if you weren't planning on going with your family, that you and I could go. Together."

For the first time in months, I was genuinely taken aback. No one had ever told me this part. Was it because I'd never told anyone? Or was it because they wanted me to figure it out for myself?

Now I had to rely on my own judgment, not foreknowledge. Did I want to go to the Hogsmeade weekend with Neville?

I looked at him. He looked so earnest, and I found I wanted to brush the cowlick out of his eyes to get a better look at his boyish face. He still had a bit of baby fat on him, but I could tell it wouldn't be much longer before he would be a man.

Since I barely knew him in the future, I didn't think of him as an adult, the way I did about my parents and Ron and Hermione. He was just another Hogwarts student, and one whom I quite liked, if I wanted to be honest. He was so dedicated to Herbology, and I loved how attached he'd become to our rowan tree. He was not funny, and not that quick or clever, but neither was I that funny or witty. He was honest and serious and, above all, kind.

I smiled at him. "I'd love to."

We sat together for the rest of the Feast, stealing nervous, grinning glances at each other. At the end of the night, we walked back to the common room together, but simply said, "See you tomorrow" to each other before parting.

It took me a little while to fall asleep, but when I dreamt, I was a little younger and in another time.

_It is the summer before my fifth year, and I have finally learned what my mission is. Aunt Mi-Mi comes over every night she can get away to tell me everything she can remember about that year. I take notes and read them during the next day so that I can tell everything back to Mi-Mi when she comes that night. I wish Aunt Mi-Mi were happier with all that I've learned, but she just seems tired._

_"Your first huge help to us will be at Hallowe'en," she says, and I start to take notes. "HALLOWE'EN," I title the page of my notebook._

_"The locket is in the Wood of Lost Souls in North Wales. I'll have to show you on a map. The locket is the first Horcrux we three will destroy together. It is a huge accomplishment, and we almost don't make it out."_

_She pauses, and I see her closing her eyes against the onslaught of memory. "The ghosts flee the forest at sunset, so we move in. You've told us that the locket is in an aerie in the tallest tree in the wood. We've scouted it out from afar, so we know which one it is._

_"Harry brings his Firebolt, of course, and Ron takes his broom too. I can't fly to save my life, so I let them go up by themselves. They get to the top of this old, old spruce, and there's a nest nestled in the top branches. It looks like a regular old nest, but there's only one egg, and it looks like it's made of black marble, and it's huge._

_"Harry is impulsive." She sighs. "He starts to knock on the egg to see if it's hollow, how thick it is, and it cracks. This eldritch red light beams out, and the light . . . it has a physical presence, almost. It shoots into the sky, and that drives Harry's broom down. Meanwhile, Harry was looking down at it, so he's blinded."_

_I'm not breathing. My father, this is my father she's talking about --_

_"Basically, he's in an uncontrolled freefall on his broom in the middle of a dense forest, and he's blind. I see him tumbling towards me, and I scream for Ron to catch him. Ron swoops down and gets him around the waist, but Harry's blacked out. He drops the egg, but I manage to catch it and not look at the light._

_"The light is making a red beacon in the air, and I can't make it stop. So I open the egg the rest of the way as Ron takes Harry back to the ground. As soon as the egg is completely broken, the light goes away, and I'm left holding a broken eggshell and -- Slytherin's locket. It's old and dull gold. It feels wrong in my hand._

_"Ron asks me what we should do. Harry's out cold, but we've got the locket. We don't know how to destroy it, but we don't think Harry knows either._

_"At that point . . . ." She shudders, and I lean forward in my chair. "At that point, the ghosts start coming back."_

_I look at her in horror. "It was Hallowe'en!!"_

_"Yes," she says, "but Regulus Black knew that no matter how well he hid the Horcrux, someone else could come along and find it. He had no way of knowing if that someone would be good or evil, so he enchanted that eggshell. That red beacon was a way for the ghosts to know that people were trespassing in their forest and disturbing their graves."_

_"You weren't disturbing their graves!" I cried indignantly._

_"Have you tried reasoning with ghosts?" Aunt Mi-Mi asked sardonically. "The spell convinced them that we were essentially grave robbers. Of course, we didn't know that at the time; we found Regulus's diary later."_

_"What did you do?" I cried, almost in anguish._

_"Well, first I notice a weird white light that's starting to grow. It's almost as if the sun is rising, but it's not even midnight, so that's impossible. Then I start seeing figures -- the first is a general of some sort, galloping forward on a horse. They're both ghosts, of course._

_"I scream. Ron starts yelling that we need to get out right away. But Harry's still not responding._

_"'You need to fly him back!' I tell Ron._

_"'And just how are you going to get out of here?' he yells._

_"But I just run up to where Harry's slumped over and haul him onto Ron's broom, which is hovering a few inches above the ground. I remember thinking that it was a good thing that the Dursleys starved him, because otherwise I couldn't possibly have done it._

_"'I'm not leaving you!' Ron shouts._

_"'Don't be daft,' I say, and I jump onto Harry's Firebolt. I'm still clutching the locket in one hand. The broom doesn't like me one bit -- it starts bucking around. But Ron jumps onto his broom behind Harry, gets one arm around Harry's waist, and flies over to the Firebolt. With his other hand he grabs the Firebolt's shaft and we start flying up and away._

_"When we level off, Ron can't rely on gravity to keep Harry leaning against him, so he has to grab him with both arms. Then I'm left to fend for myself on the Firebolt. We're hundreds of miles from Hogwarts; Harry's not moving; I can barely fly._

_"We decide to touch down as soon as possible, so we do, at the outskirts of a medium-sized Welsh town._

_"'We can't very well just parade in looking for witches and wizards to help with our broomsticks slung over our shoulders,' Ron says._

_"But finally my brain starts working. 'Ron,' I say, 'it's Hallowe'en! We can just be dressed up as witches and wizards!'_

_"He stares at me in wonder. Then --" She stops and, uncharacteristically, blushes. "Well."_

_I'm too curious to leave it alone. "What?"_

_Quietly she says, "He says, 'I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you.' He'd never actually said he loved me before then, not for real."_

_I grin. Uncle Ron and Aunt Mi-Mi's relationship is famous amongst all their Hogwarts classmates for being the longest one ever carried on without the participants actually knowing about it._

_"So we Transfigure our street clothes into Hogwarts robes, figuring any real wizard or witch will recognize us. We keep our broomsticks as staffs. We cast Mobilicorpus on Harry, but make it look like we're carrying him between us._

_"We go into a couple pubs, saying we're kids on holiday doing a cross-country trip. They're all quite kind to us, and I have a couple pounds on me, so I buy us some cider. All the people just figure Harry's pissed._

_"Finally in the third pub, we see someone's eyes go wide, and as we're leaving, a woman in Muggle clothes pulls us aside. 'Are you mad?' she says. 'Why aren't you lot at Hogwarts?'_

_"We have no idea of knowing whose side she's on, so we just say, 'We went out for a bit of fun, and our friend here knocked himself out Apparating. Can you get us to a Floo?'"_

_"So we go back to her house, and she lets us use her Floo. We Floo to the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, and Aberforth is there to meet us. We get Harry up to the castle to see Madam Pomfrey quickly. She's quite concerned about him, since he got in the way of a curse. But the spell damage is slight -- he won't be able to see for a couple days, but that's all."_

_"But how do you destroy the locket?" I implore._

_She looks at me and smiles. "Another time, Susan."_

The dream dissolved, and I was left to pull the covers tighter, knowing what was befalling my friends at that very moment.


	9. The Taste of Pumpkin Liqueur

_Author's Note (**this one's important**): I've decided to give you, the readers, control over how quickly this story gets updated. The more reviews I get, the quicker the next chapter will be up (the next day at the earliest). On the other hand, if a chapter receives no reviews, the next chapter will be held indefinitely. (Reviews need not be positive; they just have to make sense!) So if you want to know what comes next, just write a quick review, and you'll get to know that much sooner._

_Meanwhile, one of my favorite subplots is about to develop, so I'll leave you all to the story!_

The three of them did not come to breakfast on the first day of November. Since they also hadn't made the Feast, there were rumors buzzing around, but I serenely buttered a piece of toast and didn't participate.

Halfway through breakfast, Ginny came flying in, her face pink. "They're in the Hospital Wing," she blurted out to me, Neville, Lavender, Seamus, and Dean.

"Are they all right?" I asked.

"Harry was the only one who was hurt," and the expression on her face was a queer mixture of pride and worry. "He's blind, but Madam Pomfrey says it's temporary. Ron and Hermione just fell asleep there."

"BLIND?" yelped Neville. "What on earth happened??"

Ginny set her jaw. "That's for Harry to tell."

I wondered if my father had actually told my mother anything about the night, or if she was bluffing. Probably the latter; Harry, I imagined, was too weak from the effects of Regulus's residual curse to be doing much talking.

The news spread quickly through the Great Hall that the infamously oft-injured triumvirate was spending yet another day in the Hospital Wing. Though Harry couldn't be released till he'd regained his sight, Ron and Hermione were back in the Gryffindor common room that night.

They sat through the excited questioning of their dormmates with aplomb, saying only that they'd been helping Harry with a long-term project, and that he'd return to Hogwarts life soon. After the crowd had dissipated, the couple sidled up to me.

I looked up from my Arithmancy problem set. "I was glad to hear you all made it through all right," I said quietly.

"No thanks to you," Ron said.

I gaped at them. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione placed a calming hand on Ron's arm. "Susan, it's not that we didn't appreciate knowing the location. But we were caught completely off-guard by the ghosts' returning. If you weren't Ron's cousin, I might suspect that you'd deliberately withheld the information on the hopes we would be killed."

It was lucky that I was a naturally calm, subdued person. I didn't jump up and begin shouting, I merely looked at them levelly, Ron especially. "I have told you both time and time again where my loyalties lie. I wish I had Seen more, been able to help you more. But I can't control my abilities. I told you all that I Saw. And you retrieved the locket, correct?"

They had the good grace to look a little chagrined. "Yes," Ron said.

"How do we destroy it?" Hermione asked anxiously.

I shook my head. "I See that this is something you must figure out for yourself." I couldn't fight Hermione's intellectual battles for her; she'd never go on to make the contributions to Wizarding society she needed to, otherwise.

Ron took a step forward. "What bloody good are you?" he cried.

I suddenly missed, terribly missed, the Uncle Ron I knew and loved, who never would have spoken that way to me. I closed my eyes and thought back to the previous summer, when I'd lived for a month with my aunt and uncle and Henry, Lynnea, and Chester, their three small children. I'd felt like a big sister for the first time in my life. And Ron had almost been the father I'd never had. Now he was shouting at me because he didn't care about me; he barely knew me. It was a far cry from the life I knew.

I fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me, though I kept my eyes shut. "I'm sorry I can't help you more on this task," I said steadily, "but there is a reason for everything. There's a reason why I can or can't See certain things. I assume the forces of good are helping me to help you; what they choose to reveal is not something I can control. I will let all three of you know when I have more information about the second Horcrux."

"But --" came Ron's voice.

"Hush," Hermione said, and I heard their retreating footsteps.

Why hadn't I told them more about the locket? Well, I'd told them what Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi had told me to tell them . . . which was what they remembered my having told them. For the first time I felt truly hampered by my place in time, and I resented my lack of choices.

When I could stand to move, I scurried up to my dorm and fell on my bed crying softly. I wanted my mother.

"Susan? Are you all right?"

I dashed the tears from my eyes and sat up abruptly. There was my mother, sure enough, but she wasn't really my mother. I wanted the mother who had placed a Bertie Botts Bean on my boo-boos and told me to eat it when it didn't hurt anymore. I wanted the mother who had held me while I sobbed that Jamie Lupin only had eyes for Polly Wellek. I wanted the mother who had looked me straight in the eye before I donned the Time Turner and said, "You are strong, Susan. You are stronger than most people ever have to be. Be safe, and come back to me."

"I'm all right, Ginny," I said, snuffling a little.

"You're not," she said gently, and sat on the foot of my bed. "D'you feel guilty about Harry?"

I shook my head miserably. "It's stupid," I said.

"Susan, I cried myself to sleep over Harry Potter at least once a week for five years. Nothing is stupid to me."

I giggled a little. "Right. Well. I just don't think Ron likes me very much. Nor does Hermione. I think Harry understands, actually, that sometimes destiny throws you for a loop, but the other two . . . they want me to be perfect. I -- I can't be perfect." Here I began sobbing in earnest and buried my head in the crook between my folded knees.

"There, now, don't cry," Ginny said soothingly, caressing my long, red hair. "No one expects that of you."

"I want my mum," I wailed, much to my embarrassment.

Ginny didn't say another word, just gathered me up in her arms and rocked me gently. I could almost pretend it was really her, not some long-ago version.

She must have spoken with her brother and Hermione, because they didn't approach me again. Harry did come to me when he got out of the Hospital Wing, but it was to thank me. "I know how hard it is when you get a vision," he explained. "I'm just glad you were able to pinpoint it as well as you did."

I smiled a bit. "I'll tell you as soon as I See anything about another Horcrux."

He frowned. "Right now we have to concentrate on destroying this one. I'm glad you convinced me to come back to school, Susan. I thought we could go after the Horcruxes on our own, but this was the one that Voldemort had lost control of, and we got caught badly off-guard. I can only imagine what would've happened had we been tackling one of Voldemort's own traps."

I nodded. "You will discover a way to destroy the locket," I assured him. "I See that you three will bring an end to this piece of the soul of He Who Must Not Be Named."

Harry nodded back, seemingly unsurprised. "Hermione does have an idea; we'll do it this Hogsmeade weekend, when the castle's relatively empty. You're welcome to join us."

I thought about agreeing, then remembered my date with Neville. "Thanks, but no," I said. "I've got some things to get in Hogsmeade. Let me know if you need anything?"

"Thanks, yeah," he said, and I knew that Harry trusted me now, as much as he trusted anyone outside his innermost circle.

So that Saturday, I put on my Gryffindor scarf and warm coat and met Neville in the common room. "You ready?" he asked unnecessarily.

I didn't blame him for being nervous. "Indeed," I said, and smiled as calmly as I could.

We walked out with all the other upperclass students to the village. No one remarked on our being together; people must have assumed that in the absence of the three heroes and Ginny, we banded together by default.

Neither of us felt much like going into the stores right off, so we headed over to the Shrieking Shack instead. "Did you meet Professor Lupin?" Neville asked me.

I almost said, "Of course, he's my best mate's dad," but stopped myself. "I . . . well. I don't know if this is the kind of thing you say on a first date," I started lamely. I had no idea what one did on a first date; this was my first one ever.

Neville looked startled. "What -- what could you possibly have to say?" he wondered.

"I'll tell you," I said, "but you must promise to believe me."

He nodded fervently. "I know you're an honest person, Susan."

I blushed at that, knowing I was about to tell the biggest lie of all. "Well, then. I'm a Seer."

Comprehension dawned in Neville's eyes. "That makes so much sense," he breathed. "That's how you're helping Harry, isn't it?"

It was my turn to be startled. "Yes! I must admit, no one else cottoned on so quick."

"I know about prophecies," he said mysteriously.

I didn't press him. "So, well, I only met Professor Lupin briefly, at Bill's wedding, but I've Seen more of him."

Neville laughed a little. "I'm sure this is no surprise to you, then, but he transformed here when he went to Hogwarts."

I had, in fact, known that. Jamie, his and Tonks's son, who was remarkably normal -- he was neither a lycanthrope nor a Metamorphmagus -- was in fact my best mate. I'd had an awful crush on him in third year, but now we were just friends. Jamie had been dating a sweet Muggleborn girl named Polly since our fifth year. I wondered idly how the two of them were doing. Or rather, how they would be doing. It wasn't as if time were happening without me, really. Or was it?

We stood and stared at the Shack for a bit. "Poor ramshackle little place," I said at length. "Not even any proper ghosts there."

"No," Neville agreed. "A nice Wizarding family should live there and bring a ghoul or three along."

"Some gnomes," I rejoined, "a Jarvey, and an old, contented Crup."

He grinned. "That sounds like the perfect family."

"I'm sure the Shrieking Shack would be a happier place for it."

Neville got a distant look in his eyes. "If my parents ever recover, I'll see if I can convince them to buy it."

My heart leapt to my throat. His parents . . . ? My training hadn't included any of this. "Your parents," I said helplessly.

"Bellatrix Lestrange tortured them to the point of insanity when I was a year old," he said mechanically. "I've lived with my grandmother ever since. We sold my parents' house when I was four or so."

I automatically put a hand on his wrist, and he turned his hand and laced our fingers together. I shivered happily at the contact. "I'm so sorry, Neville."

He looked into my eyes. "So am I," he said, "but that's the way life goes sometimes. Sometimes it's hard, and we can't see why. Maybe there's no reason at all. But I'll fight in this war, and I'll finish what my parents started."

His statement had the ring of actual Sight, but I didn't think Neville was a Seer. Sometimes just believing that you'd do something was enough.

I didn't respond, just sidled up to him; he unlaced our fingers and put his arm around my shoulder instead.

After a long time standing silently, we composed ourselves and walked down into the village. Together we browsed the bookstore (which contained no less than three unauthorized biographies of Harry), the post office (where tatty "WANTED!" posters still hung of all the Azkaban escapees), and Dervish and Banges (where their top seller, an expensive intruder alert system, was being displayed up front). Everywhere, there were reminders that this war was still roaring onward.

Our last stop was the Three Broomsticks, where Neville bought me the day's special: hot chocolate with a shot of pumpkin liqueur. It was delicious, and I curled my hands around the mug to ward off the cold. There were a few other Hogwarts students in the pub, but they were from other Houses and younger, eager to try their first butterbeers.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" I asked for the fourth time, as I sipped the drink down to its dregs.

"I'm sure," Neville said, and sat strangely still in his seat. He was not sitting across the table from me, but to my left side, where we could both watch the people coming and going.

After my last sip, I set down the empty mug with a thump. "Thank you, it was delicious," I said. "I wish you could've tasted it."

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. I felt, rather than saw, the change in Neville's body language. I knew what was coming, and I involuntarily braced myself for it.

My words were still hanging in the air when he leaned in and kissed me. It was gentle and hardly lasted more than a second. I did not feel fireworks or any of the other nonsense I'd heard the other girls talk about. I did feel something, though, that shot through me, from my mouth down to my toes, and lodged somewhere around my stomach. I didn't know what the something was, except that it seemed to want me to kiss Neville back.

So when he pulled back quickly to survey my face, I didn't let him stay apart from me for long. Before he could say a word, I leaned over to him and kissed him, tilting my head so that it felt less like a kiss one could give a friend or relation.

When I leaned back, he looked slightly dazed. He recovered fairly quickly, though, and said, "You're right. Delicious."

I blushed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," I murmured, looking down at my hands.

"It was my first kiss," he said, and I looked up at him gratefully. Of course he was honest enough to admit to it; it was Neville.

"Mine too," I said quickly.

He smiled then, and it looked as though his face would split. "Do you fancy getting some more practice?"

I grinned. "I rather think I do."

He reached over and took my hand again. "Does this make you my girlfriend?"

"Only if it makes you my boyfriend."

We walked back to the castle hand in hand that afternoon, though for all I knew, I could have been gliding on the clouds.


	10. The Use of Objects

_Author's Note: Thanks to the overwhelming response to Chapter Nine, I've done as I promised and posted this today. I'm a girl of my word!! Keep reviewing, and I'll keep posting!_

I slept late the next morning. When I finally awoke, I found Ginny sitting in bed and reading. Our other dormmates were nowhere to be found.

I rubbed my eyes. "Morning, Gin," I yawned.

Her eyes darted over to me. "Good, you're up. Get showered and dressed; the other three will be waiting for us in the Room of Requirement."

I was too sleepy to register much surprise. I got ready for the day as quickly as I could, then let Ginny lead me to the seventh floor.

"Oh," I said in comprehension. This was where their secret Defense group had met right after Voldemort had risen again.

Ginny didn't hear, just made the room open up and ushered me inside, where, as promised, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were waiting. On a table between the three of them lay a small black lump.

I knew what it was. I walked over and examined it. "The locket," I said.

If the four of them were startled, they didn't show it. "Yes, it did that when we finally opened it," Harry said.

"Congratulations," I said, turning to him.

"That's it, then?" Hermione asked. "It's been destroyed?"

"Look at it," I said, gesturing towards it. "It's gone."

"But WHY?" Ron demanded. "It basically self-destructed. We just opened it."

"How did you do it?" I asked.

"I have a penknife with blades that open any lock," Harry explained. "There's a very small blade that opened it right up."

I nodded. "Good."

"Charms wouldn't work," Hermione said anxiously. "Alohomora bounced right off and made a vase explode."

"Well, He Who Must Not Be Named would have protected against charms, but some things you can't protect against," I said, taking a seat next to Ginny on a loveseat.

"But how do you KNOW?" Hermione cried. "I've read every book I can get my hands on in the Restricted Section, and I can't understand what's going on!"

I sighed. "I'm going to tell you all what I know about these Horcruxes. I hope it'll help you to understand it. I'm not sure I fully understand it myself."

"Go on, then," Ginny said.

"Harry, you destroyed a particularly virulent Horcrux when you destroyed the diary. The diary was a neutral object when it was manufactured, but Tom Riddle did use it as a diary for some time before turning it into a Horcrux. His evil thoughts and deeds were recorded on that paper, and thus when he transformed it into a Horcrux, it was easy. The diary was an evil object, and so it took a good deal to vanquish it.

"The ring was the same. That's why Dumbledore went after it first. The ring had been worn continuously for a thousand years by people who, by and large, were not pleasant. It was infused with the thoughts and feelings of generations of bitter, evil-doing people. As an object in and of itself, it had evil inclinations. It made a very good Horcrux.

"The Founders' objects . . . ." I shook my head. "It was much more difficult for He Who Must Not Be Named to force pieces of his soul into those four objects. That's why there was the whole bit with the boat and the Inferi around the place where the locket was supposed to be, whereas the diary could be entrusted to a Death Eater. The Founders were four very good people, and their objects are artifacts that retain, very strongly, their moral compasses. The four Horcruxes that reflect the Founders should be much easier to destroy, because the underlying objects are inherently good."

"Wait a second!" Harry cried. "Slytherin wasn't inherently GOOD." He looked furious.

I winced. This part wouldn't be easy. "He . . . he was, Harry. I know it's hard for us to see now, in this age, but Salazar Slytherin --"

"He wanted to MURDER Muggleborns!" he shouted, pounding a fist on his armrest. "This is BOLLOCKS! He was evil!"

I shook my head. "Listen. Just listen, all right?"

"Harry," Ginny said quellingly, and Harry settled back down in his chair, though his expression was stormy.

"I know," I said. "I know about the Chamber of Secrets. I know it seems like the work of an evil man. But Slytherin had been married once to a witch named Catherine. This was years before the founding of Hogwarts. They had two daughters -- one of them is an ancestor of Tom Riddle. The locket that you destroyed, Salazar Slytherin had given it to Catherine when she gave birth to their first daughter. It had a lock of the first daughter's hair in it.

"One day when Slytherin was away from home, the Muggle villagers who lived nearby took Catherine from her home. She was feeding the younger daughter at the time; the older was outside playing in the woods, so she wasn't found by the Muggles. The Muggles took the baby and killed her, then killed Catherine. Suspicion of witchcraft. Their holiest book says, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' Slytherin found their bodies dumped outside their front door when he returned."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. "But she was a witch," Ron said, though his tone was grave. "Why didn't she fight back?"

"This was before the founding of Hogwarts," I said. "Women weren't taught how to use their magic, except to do cooking and cleaning."

"That's why he helped to found the school," Ginny said, comprehenion dawning.

"Yes," I said. "He believed that every witch and wizard needed to know how to defend themselves."

"But why the hatred of Muggleborns?" Harry asked. "They're witches and wizards as well."

I sighed again. "He couldn't trust them. They had Muggle parents and siblings -- he feared greatly that they would reveal the location of Hogwarts, or the identity of other witches and wizards, and that anyone who associated with Muggleborns would become fodder for witchhunters."

"It wasn't about blood purity, then," Hermione said slowly. "It was about preserving the lives of his kind."

"Yes," I said.

"But a Basilisk?" Ron said.

"That was his last defense if Hogwarts came under attack," I explained. "If hoardes of Muggles were to try to take the school, he would unleash the serpent."

"That's absurd!" Hermione cried. "Hogwarts is a huge, easily defensible castle."

"It wasn't always," I said. "Hogwarts has been rebuilt many times over the years. Its incarnation as a stone castle only came after the school had been around for two hundred years or so. When they founded it, Hogwarts was a wooden structure, and it would have been easily burned and sacked."

"Slytherin was essentially good," Ginny said in wonder. "I never would've guessed."

"He hated people he'd never met," Harry spat. "It's rubbish."

"Harry," I said gently. "Don't you have a prejudice against people in Slytherin House? Isn't that hating people you've never met?"

He looked as though I'd just slapped him. "That's different! They're awful! They're Death Eaters! They kill people!"

"And that's how Salazar Slytherin felt about Muggles," I said.

He opened his mouth, then shut it. "I guess," he muttered.

"That's why the locket wanted to reject the piece of soul," I said, getting back to the point. "It was an object given in profound love from one good person to another. It didn't want to be used that way."

"Why did opening it destroy it, though?" Hermione asked. She was, surprisingly enough, more or less untroubled by the story about Slytherin. I supposed that she had done a good deal of reading on the medieval period and knew how vicious Muggles had been to the magical people of the era.

This part was harder to explain. I laid my hands palm side up on my lap and opened and closed my fingers a few times. "Objects . . . have functions." I paused. "Simple objects, like a locket, or a cup, they have one main function. As human beings, we invest them with a tiny amount of power when we use them in the capacity that they're meant to be used. As magical people, we invest them with magical power."

"We learned about it a bit in Arithmancy," Hermione interrupted. She looked enthralled. "When we get experimental errors in our spell calculations, it's usually because of the tiny amount of power generated in using the objects in question."

I nodded. "Right, that's right. In some sense, then, the locket wanted to be opened. And when you did manage to open it, it harnessed that power to destroy itself. It chose destruction over being used for He Who Must Not Be Named's ends."

"But HOW did we open it?" Hermione queried. "Voldemort must have wanted to ensure that no one could ever open it."

"He protected it against any charms," I said, "but he couldn't seal it off completely."

"He didn't seal it against magical instruments, then," Hermione deduced.

"That's my assumption," I said. "Protecting it against charms meant no one could Summon it or anything like that. But to use a magical instrument on it you'd have to actually have it in your hands, and I don't think He Who Must Not Be Named believed anyone would penetrate his defenses. Anyway, even if he'd tried . . . the penknife was another instrument of good, another object that was given in love from one good person to another." I swallowed and looked at Harry, whose face was a mask. "That little bit of good was all the locket needed."

"How will we destroy the other ones, then?" Hermione said, not to be deterred. "Lockets want to be opened, like you said, but Hufflepuff's cup will want . . . to be filled?"

I smiled and nodded. "Precisely."

"So, what, we just hold it under a spigot and wait for it to melt down?" Ron asked.

"It may be that easy," I admitted. "More likely, you'll need to fill it with something that is purely good."

I could see the gears in Hermione's head turning. "What . . ." she began, but Harry cut her off.

"Where's the cup, then?" he asked roughly.

I closed my eyes as if to See something. "London," I said immediately. "I think he lived in a flat in Wizarding London that's been abandoned ever since he left his job in Knockturn Alley. He must have kiled the witch who owned the cup, put a part of his soul into it, then set up his flat to protect the cup and left it there. He kept the locket when he escaped London and stowed it away on the coast, in the cave where you and Dumbledore found the fake, Harry."

"Right," Harry said. "Now we just have to find Voldemort's old flat."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Hermione said unexpectedly.

Ron laughed, breaking the tension a bit. "Go on, Hermione, tell us it's in the Hogwarts Library."

Hermione started a bit. "Well, it is."

We stared at her. "Yes?" Ron continued.

"There's a Wizarding Floo Directory in the library that's updated every time the Floo Registry adds on a new fireplace," she said. "If Voldemort had his fireplace hooked up to the Floo, it would be on there -- or at least, it would have been in the Forties."

Harry looked at her intently. "Don't you think he would have disconnected his Floo when he left?"

"I do," Hermione said firmly, "but we could look at the book the way it was in, say, 1946 or so. We just learned the Antemorphean Charm a month ago -- I bet that would do it."

Her friends all grinned. "Hermione, you're brilliant!" cried Ron, and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

"Shall we take a trip to the library, then?" Ginny asked a bit sardonically.

"Let's go!" said Ron.

"And that is the first and last time Ron will ever be eager to visit the library," Ginny said. We all laughed.


	11. Silver and Gold

_Author's Note: You guys are amazing! I never dreamed you'd keep the reviews coming, but I was proven completely wrong. A promise is a promise -- here's the next chapter. It's a very long, very important one, so buckle up!_

The Antemorphean Charm worked just as Hermione had said it would, though it took an hour and multiple tries by everyone to get it to revert to its 1946 state. Since it was a reference book, it was not allowed out of the library; we took turns keeping watch for Madam Pince while we struggled with the difficult spell.

It was, of course, Hermione who got it in the end. When the title on the front finally changed from "Great Britain Floo Directory, 1997" to "Domestic Floo Connexions in the British Isles, 1946," we all hissed our approval.

Harry grabbed it first and flipped open to the white pages. I saw him run his finger down a page about two-thirds of the way through the volume. "Ribon, Rice, Rickhart . . . Riddle. There. 'Riddle, T. Floo Port #310887. 1610 Queen Maeve Way, No. 3B, London.'"

"I know where that is!" Ron burst in. "My parents took me to the Museum of Wizarding Government once, and it's on the same street."

"That's right," Ginny said. "Bloody boring museum, too. Good to know it was good for something."

To my surprise, Harry eyed me and said, "Well, Susan? Any ideas about the best time to go?"

I closed my eyes and thought back to the story Hermione had told me about the Hufflepuff Horcrux. They were in for a lot, but there was nothing I could do about it. "No," I said. "Just go on a weekend; don't miss class if you don't have to."

Ron laughed. "You're like the sister Hermione never had."

I blushed. I wanted to say, "More like the daughter she helped raise," but I bit my tongue for the umpteenth time. "I mean, I See that you might need a day or two to recover afterwards."

Hermione looked nervous. "I don't want to miss any classes if I can help it. Can we do it on Friday night?"

Ginny suddenly looked disappointed, and Harry shot a glance at her before saying, "If that seems like the best idea, then that's when we'll do it."

My stomach growled. "Have you eaten at all today?" Hermione asked sharply.

Ginny looked chagrined. "I brought her straight to the seventh floor when she woke up."

Hermione glanced at her watch. "Susan, you should be able to catch the tail end of lunch if you hurry. Go on; we understand."

I waved goodbye to the lot of them and hightailed it to the Great Hall, where plates of food, though much depleted, were still sitting on the tables. I spotted Neville, grinned, and went to sit beside him.

"Afternoon, sir," I said, taking a turkey sandwich from a pile.

"Hello, milady," he said, placing a hand on the small of my back as I took my seat. "You weren't at breakfast. I was afraid you were making me a list of reasons why last night was a horrid mistake."

"Not at all," I said, sliding closer to him to underline the point. "Just consulting with the local heroes."

"Ah," he said. "Seer work. Go on, Miss Seer, tell me my future."

I smiled beatifically up at him. "I See that you'll be involved with a younger woman."

"Brilliant!" he cried. "Lead me to her."

I took a swipe at him, missed, and contented myself with eating my lunch.

After lunch, the two of us went out to Greenhouse Two, where our wandtree resided. I sat on one of the worktables, kicking my legs back and forth, while Neville stood before me. "I think we ought to name our tree Rowena," he said. "Rowena the Rowen Tree."

"Blasphemy!" I cried. "We're GRYFFINDORS, Neville. Let the Ravenclaws name their tree that."

"Do you have a better idea?" he demanded.

"We should call her something Gryffindorish, y'know, House pride and all. How about . . . Leonora?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why not just paint her gold and red?"

So I raised my wand, did a tricky little manuever, and aimed straight at Leonora. In a moment, her trunk was striped in the Gryffindor colors. "Righto," I said calmly.

"Susan!" he cried. "Now she'll never let anyone from any other House use wands made with her wood."

I stuck my nose in the air. "So much the better," I said, affecting an upper-class accent.

"You weren't even SORTED," he said exasperatedly. "How do you know you're really a Gryffindor?"

"I'll show you," I said, and, before he could register what I'd said, I leaned forward, caught him around the neck, and pressed my lips against his.

He was too surprised to respond for a moment, but before long he'd tilted his head in acquiescence. I was feeling brave -- reckless, almost -- and I ran my tongue along his lower lip.

He opened his mouth immediately, and we began to dart in and out of each other's mouths. I wondered at the inner workings of everything: how was it that we didn't have to be taught these things? It was true that our kissing at the moment was neither very expert nor entirely passionate, but while we still had a lot to learn, we were making progress in leaps and bounds. There was no book to read, no class to take. It was just this: me sitting on a dirty table under the pale November sun; my new boyfriend half-standing, half-leaning against me; a blank slate upon which we were now both writing.

When we broke apart, I stroked his cheek and smiled. "Now do you believe I'm a Gryffindor?" I asked sweetly.

He pushed my tomato-red hair behind my ear. "I'd believe you were the Head of the Wizengamot if it meant you'd keep kissing me like that."

I kissed his forehead. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

We spent a good portion of the afternoon in the Greenhouse, alternating between bonding with Leonora, working on an Herbology assigment (which was to identify and mark the primary branches of our tree that might provide the best quality wand wood later in her -- its, really -- life), and practicing our newfound ability to kiss. By dinnertime, my lips were bruised, and Leonora had a Conjured bauble hanging off her every branch.

I smiled all through dinner, though no one remarked on my and Neville's sudden, inexplicable happiness. For some reason, I didn't care to tell my parents' crew about Neville and me. Perhaps it was because if I thought about it too hard, it became obvious that I was headed for disappointment; I couldn't stay in this time, I knew that much.

The week passed swiftly; as the Christmas holiday was fast approaching, the work seemed to be piling on. It was nothing like my previous year, with all the revision for the O.W.L.s, but it was still quite a load. The seventh years had more on their plates in preparing for the N.E.W.T.s, but Neville still found time to spend with me in the library, in the common room, and in our Greenhouse. We made sure that no one ever actually saw us kissing -- for some reason, without a word, Neville had conformed to my tacit secrecy -- but by Friday we'd actually gotten quite good at snogging.

On Friday afternoon, I was coming back from Charms when I saw Ron, Hermione, and Harry darting out of the portrait-hole. They were looking about furtively, and it was obvious what they were about to go do.

They smiled as I approached, but I beckoned them to follow me down a side corridor. When they did, I pressed a vine from the Tenacious Tethering plant from Greenhouse Three into Hermione's hand. "You're going to need this," I said.

Hermione frowned at it. "A Tenacious Tethering vine? Whyever would we?"

I shook my head. "I can't See exactly. I know one of you must stay outside the obstacles and moor the other two to the real world. This vine is one of the few tools able to do the job, and it happens to be the one you can get your hands on easily at Hogwarts."

Harry looked at me intently. "Will they be all right?" he asked quietly, almost too quietly to hear.

I nodded. "Don't worry." Then I looked at Ron and Hermione, who looked a bit relieved. "I have to tell you all one last thing: don't believe the worst."

Now they all frowned quizzically, but I simply said, "Good luck," and went back to the main corridor to go back to my common room and work on my Defense homework.

By bedtime, they still hadn't returned. I wasn't too worried, but Ginny was pacing our dorm and wringing her hands. "WHY doesn't he let me go WITH him?" she cried to no one in particular.

"You know the answer to that," I said absently from my spot on my bed, flicking through my Charms textbook.

"Tonight we were supposed to have a date. A real date." I looked up at her. "Yeah, we . . . we go to the Room of Requirement, and it turns into a sunny day outside with a picnic basket, or a Muggle filmhouse, or whatever. Harry usually picks."

I smiled. "That's sweet."

"It is." She fixed me with a look. "Aren't you WORRIED about them at all?"

I shook my head. "Ginny, I know what I know. They'll be all right."

She looked at the ceiling in exasperation. "Where do you think they'll come back to? The common room, or the Hospital Wing?"

I thought about it. "Er. Hospital Wing."

Ginny wheeled around and leaned over to shout in my face. I didn't take it personally. "You SAID they'd be 'all right'!"

"They will be," I maintained. I snapped my Charms textbook shut. "Ginny, you know Madam Pomfrey won't let you in to see them until daylight. And Hermione will come and sleep here."

"In this dorm?" Ginny asked incredulously. "That makes no --"

A loud knock interrupted her. Ginny looked at me, and her expression was scared. But she flew to the door and opened it to find Hermione, her hair a bird's nest, her face splotchy from crying.

"C-c-can I sleep here tonight?" she sobbed.

Luckily, our dormmates were still down in the common room playing a raucus game of Exploding Snap, so it was just the three of us in our room. Ginny took Hermione by the waist and led her to her bed. "Hermione, tell us what happened," she said urgently.

"It was so awful," she said. "They made me stay. They made me be the anchor."

"Of course they did," Ginny said. "Are they alive?"

Shocked, Hermione stared at her through tears. "Of course they are!"

"Hurt?" Ginny continued.

"A little," Hermione sniffed. "They'd've been more hurt if Susan hadn't warned us."

Ginny looked at me sharply. "What d'you mean?"

"I told them not to believe the worst," I said simply.

"Hermione? How did that help?"

Hermione let out a huge breath, and visibly pulled herself together. "We Apparated right there. It wasn't at all hard to find. It was quite a nice building, actually. Pleasant neighborhood. But on the third floor, on the right side where there should've been a door to the flat, there were just large notices that it was under inspection by the Ministry of Magic." She scoffed. "Ministry my arse. I bet no one's set foot in that place in forty years. If the Ministry would just keep a watch list of --"

"Hermione!" Ginny said. "Really, now is not the time."

She closed her eyes. "Right then. Well, we just barged in, naturally. There was a silver line about a foot from the entranceway, so you had to step over it to go any farther. Then the rest of the flat was obscured by this silver mist.

"So Harry said, 'Right, well, Hermione, you're holding the vine. Stand behind the line; Ron and I will tie the vine on our wrists.' And I didn't want to be the one left behind again, but what choice did I have? Harry just looked like his mind was made up, and Ron was giving me a look like -- well." She blushed and looked away from Ginny's face. "Anyway.

"They each tied the vine around their left wrist, and then they went barging into the flat. And I couldn't see them at all. I thought everything was all right, but after a couple minutes, I heard . . . scuffling." Ginny put her hands to her mouth; Hermione continued. "I called to them, but they didn't answer.

"After fifteen seconds of that, I heard Ron shout . . . ." Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I heard him shout, 'You killed Hermione!'"

Ginny gasped, and her eyes filled with tears. "No . . . ."

"Yes. And I screamed, I yelled, 'I'm here! I'm fine!' But they didn't answer me. Then I heard Harry yelling, 'No, you betrayed us all to Voldemort!'"

It was my turn to gasp. I had known it was coming, but this time it didn't lessen the impact.

Hermione kept talking, though she was crying freely now. "I saw little flashes of light -- I knew they were shooting hexes at each other. So I took the vine and yanked hard, as hard as I could, and then I heard them both hit the floor. Then Harry yelled, 'Ron, WAIT! "Don't believe the worst," remember? This is all Voldemort's little game!'

"Then I heard quick footsteps, and Harry called, 'I got it! I got the cup!' But then -- but then he said, 'Hermione! Quick, we have to keep it from Ron!'

"And then Ron screamed, 'You bloody bastard, are you TAUNTING me? You KILLED Hermione!'"

"Hermione," Ginny said, but Hermione waved her off.

"Let me finish. I was afraid they'd kill each other, so I pulled the vine really hard again, and as soon as I heard them hit the floor, I Stunned them. I Stunned them both, and I cast Tractus on the vine so it would pull itself back to the doorway.

"When I saw them . . . they were both in a bad way. Ron's face was all bloody, and Harry's ankle looked broken. Their robes were all torn up. They'd been hexing each other; Ron's whole body was covered in nasty-looking boils, and his left leg had been turned to jelly. Harry's mouth was full of slugs, and his left hand had been Vanished." Ginny shrieked, but Hermione smiled at her. "I know it sounds scary, but it's not permanent, Gin. That's the one good thing -- neither of them is very good at Dark magic, so their jinxes are only moderately harmful.

"Anyway. Harry was still holding the cup tight in his hand, so I took it from him. I bound them up with ropes and floated them out the building with Mobilicorpus. The thing was, we'd Apparated there; I had no way of getting them back. I didn't trust myself to do Side-Along Apparition with both of them, especially having never practiced it before. So I took them out to the street, and I . . . I Transfigured them both into cats."

"Hermione!" cried Ginny. "That's very advanced, and you could've done them both a good deal of damage!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Hermione shouted. "What was I supposed to do? I had no idea if that mist had lasting effects; I couldn't very well wake them up. And what wizard in his right mind would've let me shove them through his Floo port?" She breathed heavily. "I didn't have a choice. I Transfigured them, and I Conjured up a carrier, and I put the two of them into it. Then I hailed the Knight Bus."

"Clever," I said approvingly.

"Thank you. I told the driver to take me to Hogsmeade, and I walked up to the castle. I took the carrier to the Hospital Wing, told Madam Pomfrey what I'd done, and ran back here."

"You don't think you'll get in trouble, do you?" I asked.

"I hope not," she said. "I'll explain it to Professor McGonagall; maybe she can help me."

"Where's the cup, then?" Ginny asked.

Hermione reached into a pocket of her robes and drew it out. The gold of the cup shone with an unnatural sheen. I took it from her and admired the fine engraving.

"However will we destroy it?" whispered Hermione. "Harry had the knife last time; we don't have anything like that now."

I frowned. "We need to fill it with a liquid that is purely good."

Hermione got a faraway look in her eyes. "Well . . . ."

Ginny looked at her. "Yes?"

"There's only one thing I can think of, but it's pretty much impossible," she said.

"I want that thing destroyed, Hermione," Ginny hissed, surprising both of us. "My brother and my -- and Harry almost killed each other over it. Susan, get dressed. We're going to destroy it tonight. Hermione, what's the plan?"

She looked shocked, but swiftly recovered. "Well, the only thing I can think of would be something from a unicorn."

Ginny started. "What, you mean, like, blood? Killing a unicorn --"

"But why would we have to kill it?" Hermione asked, almost pleadingly. "Just a little cut would do it."

"We'll ask for their help," I said authoritatively as I put on a school robe over my pajamas. "They'll give it."

"You think it'll work, Susan?" Hermione said desperately.

I shrugged. "I think it's the best plan we've got, and I think it's best for the three of us to do it. Unicorns won't let men get near them." I looked at both of them shrewdly. "You're both virgins," I said. It wasn't a question.

They both flushed, but nodded. "Well, so'm I. Let's get this over with."

It was nearly midnight by the time we went out to the Forbidden Forest. We all had Shield Charms up and wands at the ready. The moon was nowhere near full, so we at least didn't have to worry about werewolves.

Before long, we started to see flashes of gold, silver, and white at the edges of our vision. "Unicorn territory," Hermione said in a carrying whisper.

"Shh," I said, and stopped. "Unicorns!" I cried. "We beg your assistance. Please, for the love of all that is good, come to our aid."

Nothing stirred in the forest, not even a leaf in the breeze. I dropped to my knees, and I heard the two other girls follow suit behind me. "We lay down our weapons," I called, and placed my wand on the ground before me. "We are defenseless. We require your help to vanquish the evil that has haunted this wood in the past."

There was a long silence, and I let my eyes dart about, trying to see if I was having any effect. After a couple minutes, I called out one last time: "You smell fear and death on us. It is true; we are human, and we all carry the seed of evil in our hearts. But we three maidens are following the good in our natures. We beseech you for the help only you can give."

My heart beat once, twice, three times. Still there was only silence.

Then, without warning, a huge male unicorn stepped out from behind a nearby tree and stalked over to where I knelt. He was bigger than the biggest stallion I'd ever beheld, and pure, pure white, from his single spiralled horn to the four hooves that trod the ground so close to me.

I looked up into his eyes and was ashamed of my own nature, of all the times I'd shouted at my mother, of the times I'd lied to my professors, of the times I'd been jealous of Polly Wellek. My eyes filled with tears. This creature knew every evil deed I'd ever committed.

I held the gaze, though, and after some indefinable period of time, the good I'd done rose to the front of my mind. I saw myself cradling my mother as she wept, working diligently on an Arithmancy problem set, caressing Neville's cheek. There was good in me, and it was strong.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind, the unicorn bent its head and touched its horn to my forehead, ever so gently, so that the point didn't break the skin on my face. I knew I had his permission to ask of him what I must.

Then it trotted off past me to test Ginny and Hermione. Ginny held her chin up and stared straight at the unicorn without fear, almost challenging him. He regarded her for a long moment, then touched his horn to her forehead.

Hermione was still crying, and it seemed to me that the unicorn's demeanor was gentler as he tested her. When he touched his horn to her, she wiped the tears from her face and gave him a watery smile.

He came back over to me, and I rose to meet him, taking my wand from the ground as I did so. I picked up the cup. "I need this to be destroyed, and I believe your blood can do it." I put the cup down on the ground again and laid a hand on his great neck. "But I don't believe I can harm you without incurring a horrible curse."

He pawed the ground a few times, and another unicorn sprang out from behind the trees. This one was female and a little younger, as there was still some silver in the coat. I thought it was his mate, but I could have been wrong.

They seemed to communicate in silence. After a few moments, the female lowered her head to the male's right flank and tossed her head. Then she stepped back, and the three of us rushed over.

"Goodness!" Hermione cried, and she sounded profoundly upset. The cut was long, but not too deep. He was oozing silver blood.

"Ginny, quickly, the cup," I said, and she grabbed it from its spot on the ground.

"Wait," said Hermione. "I'm not sure we should touch the cup to the unicorn. It just seems . . . wrong."

We paused a moment. It seemed wrong to me, too.

"Let me," Hermione said, and hissed, "Tergeo." The blood stopped dripping down the unicorn's flank and flew over to her wand. At the last moment before it was absorbed by her wand, she made a slashing motion toward the cup, and it splashed into the cup in Ginny's hand.

The effect was immediate. The cup began hissing and folding in on itself. Ginny dropped it hurriedly, and it shriveled up to a blackened husk atop the fall leaves.

"Hermione, can you do anything to heal the poor beast?" I asked.

She wrung her hands for a moment. "Healing magic is all Potions and things. But --" She waved her wand and Conjured up a poultice. "This should help, at least a bit."

I took it from her and held it against the cut. "Are you all right?" I asked him quietly.

He fixed me with a look that somehow both reminded me that he had volunteered for the injury, and also thanked me for my concern.

I held the poultice to his flank until he tossed his head and bucked sideways away from me. "We thank you most earnestly for your assistance," I said, looking into his eyes.

"Really we do!" Hermione cried, and I smiled.

The unicorn regarded us all another moment, then looked down at the black skeleton of the cup. With utter disdain, he stood over the object and urinated. I laughed at the unexpectedness of it, then clasped my hands in appreciation as the husk melted away to black ashes, which blew away with the next breeze.

"Thank you," I said. "Thank you so much."

He lowered his head to my forehead one last time, this time causing a tiny scratch on my forehead, then galloped away into the trees.


	12. Complications in Obtaining Pudding

_Author's Note: I can't sufficiently thank those of you who are regular reviewers! For those of you who are reading but have yet to review, see if you can find it in yourself to drop a line! All right, on with the show!_

We went to visit the boys in the Hospital Wing late the next morning, after we'd all woken up. It had taken a good deal of sleep to allow us to recover from the previous night's events, especially for Hermione. By the time we were all up and dressed, it was nearly lunchtime.

They were asleep when we got there, which was probably a good thing. Madam Pomfrey looked exhausted. "I don't know what you three get up to, and I don't want to know," she told Hermione when Hermione tried to explain the circumstances. "All I know is, it's probably for the best. Well done on the Transfigurations."

Hermione held her head a little higher. Ginny asked, "Are they both all right?"

She peered at Ginny intently. "Young lady, have a little faith. Your brother and his friend will recover fully in time. Mr. Potter's fingers will take another day, perhaps, to rematerialize, and Mr. Weasley will need to take a potion every three hours for the boils. They are still out cold -- Ms. Granger, I believe you were a tad overenthusiastic in your Stunning."

Now Hermione's shoulders sagged, but I put an arm around her. "You did what you had to do, Hermione," I said quietly.

"You have my permission to Rennervate them," Madam Pomfrey continued. "It should do them no harm."

Ginny flew over to Harry's bed and pulled up a stool. With a flick of her wand, she drew the curtains. Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows went up, but she didn't comment. Hermione took my hand and led me over to Ron's bed. The truth was, I'd've rather waited for my father to regain consciousness, but I loved Ron too, so I went willingly with my aunt.

"Rennervate," Hermione whispered, pointing her wand at Ron's heart. His eyelids fluttered a few times, the vibrant blue of his eyes a stark change from the paleness of his skin.

"'Mione?" he croaked.

Hermione began crying again, and she took his hands in hers. "You're all right, Ron. You're in the Hospital Wing."

He smiled lazily, then all of a sudden, he sat up like a shot. "HARRY!" he cried. "I've hurt him! I -- no, is he -- ?"

"He's fine," I said calmly. "Harry's in the bed across from you. Your sister is waking him up."

He half-settled back down again, but was still in a state of consternation. "I wanted to kill him," he said in wonderment. "I really wanted to kill him. I thought -- I thought he'd --" He cast a beseeching look at Hermione, who was still crying silently. "Oh, Hermione," he said, and I knew I didn't want to be there any longer.

"Carry on," I said stupidly, then hurried out of the Hospital Wing. I badly wanted Neville, so I headed for the Great Hall.

He was sitting on his own, and put a hand out to grasp mine when I approached. "Harry and Ron didn't come home last night," he said by way of greeting.

"They're in the Hospital Wing," I said, and took a spoonful of pasta salad.

"I suppose you know what happened to them?"

I felt a twinge of guilt. I couldn't lie to him now. "Yes."

"And I suppose you won't tell me." His tone was not accusatory; it would've been easier if it had been.

"I can't. I'm so sorry. But Harry doesn't want anyone to know."

He rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Harry has a funny idea of loyalty."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Last June, when Death Eaters were in this castle, I came running the moment he called. But now I can't know what he's up to."

I put a hand on his knee. "Neville, it's not like that."

He turned to face me, and I saw that he was fighting tears. "I've always been the useless one. You know I tried to stop them saving the school our first year? And at the end of fifth year, I smashed the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries."

"You are NOT useless," I gritted. "You're a GRYFFINDOR, Neville. You're terribly brave and utterly loyal."

He frowned and looked at the ground. "You've only known me a couple months."

"I KNOW you, Neville," I said, taking both his hands in mine. "I know you and I trust you. Completely."

He looked up at me and squeezed my hands. "I know you mean that," he said quietly, "and it means the world to me. But I wish Harry trusted me."

"He does," I insisted. "But remember, You Know Who is a Legilimens. If you're ever captured, if Hogwarts is ever attacked, the fewer people who know what's happening, the better." He looked a little placated, but not completely. "Here, I can tell you what I did last night."

He looked up at me, clearly interested. "Ginny, Hermione and I had to . . . destroy something. A Dark artifact." Then I told him the whole story of meeting the unicorns, leaving out only the most important bits: that the cup had been retrieved by the three heroes that night, and that it was a Horcrux.

". . . And then he scratched me on the forehead and left," I finished. "Can you see it?"

He swept the hair on my forehead aside and laid his index finger on the scratch. "I can," he said. "Looks like it'll heal in a day or so."

I closed my eyes at the touch. "Neville . . . ." I murmured. I wanted him not to be upset; I wanted him to smile and let me know he didn't blame me; I wanted him to kiss me, even though we were in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Finish your lunch, Susan," he said gently. "If you're going to be running around the Forbidden Forest by night, you need to keep your strength up."

I did eat, and afterwards, we went out to the Lake. It was mid-November already, so it was rather chilly, but we sat under a tree and talked. He told me about his grandmother, how she had always been rather disappointed in him. I told him that my mother was always sad, and that my father was never around -- though I did not mention why my mother was so sad, nor why I never saw my father, nor that they were two of his Housemates.

"I can't believe we've only been going out a week," I said. "It feels like a long time."

"It does," he agreed. "I'm so glad you transferred to Hogwarts, Susan."

I smiled and kissed him. "I'm glad our Herbology classes got combined."

He laughed at that, and we spent the rest of the afternoon under the tree by the Lake, trading happy confessions and kisses. I begged off dinner, since I thought I'd have to spend some time in the Hospital Wing doing some explaining. I took a couple platefuls of food and went over to see the boys; Hermione and Ginny had brought some schoolwork and were revising in the corner of the room while the two injured parties slept.

I walked in floating chicken legs and a jug of pumpkin juice in front of me. "Anyone hungry?" I said, Conjuring some plates.

Ginny leapt up to help me serve while the boys shook themselves into consciousness. "Goodness, is it dinnertime already?" Hermione asked, extricating herself from her Defense textbook.

I nodded. "I didn't want you lot to starve."

"Thanks, Susan," Harry said quietly. I had not actually seen him awake yet, and I took a good long look at him. His ankle was bound up in a bandage, but beyond that he seemed perfectly fine -- except for a troubled look in his emerald eyes. He had seen the person he trusted most in the world turn on him because of Voldemort's treachery, and I believed it caused him more pain even than seeing Dumbledore murdered.

I attempted to make light of it. "All right there, Harry?"

He tried to smile and failed. "I guess."

Ginny handed him a plate of chicken and a glass of juice. "Eat; you'll feel better."

He regarded the food in a disinterested manner, but picked at it to make my mother happy. "Thanks."

Meanwhile, Ron, who was naturally quite a bit more resilient than his best friend, was tucking into his dinner. "Thanks, Susan!" he said through a mouthful of chicken. Hermione smacked him for talking and eating. "Oi, leave off, Hermione!"

"Be polite," she hissed.

"She's FAMILY," he insisted, and I blushed at the compliment. It was the first time he'd said it so approvingly.

"So . . . ." I didn't want to start the conversation, but it had to happen. "Have you lot discussed what happened last night in London?"

An uncomfortable silence descended. Finally, Harry broke it. "It was worse than Imperius," he said hoarsely. "I could throw that. I got to the point where I could throw it every time. I was ready for that."

Ron shifted in his bed. "It was definitely worse. Imperius just made you do things, not believe them." He winced. "It was awful."

They still hadn't looked at each other while speaking, a fact lost on no one. Hermione said, "I imagine the curse made you believe whatever would destroy you quickest. I've read about those kinds of curses on some swamps in Eastern Europe. If one of you had gone in there by yourself, you probably would have been made to believe that the mist was killing you, or that you had to sacrifice yourself to destroy the cup."

"Susan, Ginny told me how you did destroy it," Harry cut in quickly. "That was brilliant."

"Thanks," I said quietly. "Though it was Hermione's idea."

"It's always Hermione's idea," Ron laughed.

"It's a good thing you kept her out of the fray," I said gently. "If all three of you had been in there, I doubt you would've all survived."

"I reckon you're right," Ron solemnly. Then, because it wasn't likely that Harry would break the ice and Ron knew it, he continued: "Harry, mate, I don't believe you'd ever do anything so awful. You know that, right?"

Harry's expression became a little less troubled as he answered. "'Course. Just like I don't believe you'd do anything like that. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't --" He colored a little and looked down.

"All right, that's enough for me," Ron said cheerily. "Now, how'm I going to get some pudding? D'you think the house-elves will make a housecall?"

"Ronald Weasley!" cried Hermione, scandalized.

I leapt up. "If I go now, I can grab some, I think."

"I'll come with," Ginny offered, and we left the three to their own devices for a few minutes.

On the way to the Great Hall, Ginny stopped, forcing me to stop as well. She looked me in the eye. "Susan, I . . . I don't know how to thank you. For everything."

I was rather surprised. "I've not been the one going on terribly dangerous missions. You ought to thank Harry for saving the world all the time."

"But without you, they wouldn't even have a starting point. I just wanted to thank you for leaving your school and your family to come help us."

"I had to," I said. "I really didn't have a choice."

"But you did," she said quietly. "So I'm thanking you."

"Well, you're welcome," I said, feeling rather flustered.

"Susan, you -- you're a Seer. That much is obvious now." I nodded. "Harry . . . is he going to live through this?"

I sighed. I knew it would come sooner or later, and I truly didn't know what to say. "Ginny, this is going to sound like a cop-out, but I honestly cannot tell."

She drew a breath, then broke down and began to sob. I'd seen my mother cry many times, and I knew what to do: I pulled her hair back from her face and massaged her shoulders while she wept. "Shh," I said. "It's all right."

"All I want is him," she said brokenly. "He's all I've ever wanted since I was ten years old. I can't lose him."

I wanted to say, "You will, and you'll survive," but I didn't. "You have to prepare yourself for the realities of war," I said firmly, thinking of the brother she would lose.

"Sometimes I just want to grab his wrist and Apparate to -- to China or something," she said wildly. "This is crazy. He's a child."

"He's not," I said.

"I know," she sobbed. "But he is, too. He never had a family. I want to give him a family."

My heart skipped a beat. "He'd make a good father," I said carefully.

"He would, he would," she said. "That should be enough for him to survive. There are a thousand things about him that would be enough. He doesn't deserve to die; Voldemort does, a thousand times over. Damn him, DAMN him."

I kept rubbing her shoulders until her hiccuping sobs stopped and she turned to face me. "Th--thank you. Again." She laughed. "I'm going to be thanking you a lot, I take it."

I shrugged. "You needn't."

"I will anyway." She slipped her hand into mine. "What d'you say, cousin? A last-minute pudding run?"

I grinned. "Yes!"

And we raced down the corridors of Hogwarts, the specter of war hot on our heels, the prospect of apple tarts just before our noses.


	13. Living on Borrowed Time

_Author's Note: Hello, all! My deep appreciation, as always, to those who are letting me know that they're reading!! Just to let you know, no matter how many reviews this chapter gets, unfortunately the next one won't go up till Monday night at the earliest. (I'll be out of town.) Meanwhile, enjoy this chapter!_

Harry and Ron were back in classes on Monday morning, though Harry's hand was bandaged, and Ron's skin looked like he had a bad case of spots. They were at this point so used to ignoring other people's whispers that the rumors died down relatively quickly, for want of confirmation or denial by any of the people in the know.

Harry seemed content for a while to have destroyed both the locket and the cup. But I knew the two mystery Horcruxes were on his mind. He came to me a week after he got out of the Hospital Wing.

"Susan, I want to get a move on the two remaining Horcruxes," he said quietly one night as the flames in the Gryffindor fireplace flickered low.

I gazed at him for a moment. I couldn't really see myself in his face, no matter how hard I looked. My eyes were the same color, of course -- that was how Mrs. Weasley had guessed my background -- but I only got occasional glimpses of other similarities. Sometimes he'd smile, and I'd know the look from my mirror, but Harry didn't smile often.

"I'm worried about you," I said in reply. He frowned at this, but said nothing. "I don't want to mother you, and I know you don't have to take my advice. But it's already mid-November. The Christmas holiday will start pretty soon. I'd like for you to take a break until the new year."

Harry's face twisted into something ugly. "What, and just let the Death Eaters rampage through Britain in the meantime?"

I held out a hand. "Shh, I know. But you almost died twice already. You're in a weakened state, whether you'd like to admit it or not. Ron and Hermione are exhausted. Ginny's worried sick morning, noon, and night. Your schoolwork is suffering. There's something to be said for a rest."

"It's not about me!" Harry cried. "And as much as I wish it weren't true, it's not about my friends or my -- or Ginny, either. It's about defeating Voldemort."

I closed my eyes. "Listen. You can't destroy him until you face him. And you won't face him for a while. So can't you slow it down?"

He peered at me. "How long is 'a while'?"

I squirmed under his gaze. "Long after the Christmas holiday."

"And which of the two of us will live? Who will die?" he demanded.

I shook my head. "I won't, Harry. I wouldn't tell you even if I were sure. Because if you thought you'd win, you'd get cocky; if you thought you'd lose, you'd give up."

He smashed a fist into his other palm. "I want it OVER with."

"I know. But it won't be, not for a while. Come to me next term about the next Horcrux."

He nodded sullenly, then packed up his Potions homework and plodded off to bed. I looked at his retreating form. He was so young. It was unfair, really, that he should be burdened with all this. And I couldn't even tell him if he'd survive to tell the tale.

I thought back to the month before my departure, when my mother and Hermione were coaching me about the last days of my stay in their time.

_"We'll see both of you for the last time before the final battle," Hermione says, her voice shaking a little. "When it's all over, you'll both be gone."_

_"Do we survive?"_

_Mum brushes a hand against my cheek. "We don't know, honey. That's still in all our futures."_

_I drop my head. "I don't want to die. I don't want Dad to die."_

_Mum stands and puts both her arms around my shoulders. "You won't, baby. We'll prepare you."_

_Aunt Mi-Mi says, "Susan, no one sees you harmed or killed. Your bodies are never recovered. It's my belief that you'll end up alive."_

_I tilt my face up to her. "And Dad?"_

_Her eyes flash with tears for an instant. "It's not inconceivable that you figure out a way to take him through time with you."_

_I frown. "I don't understand. Aunt Mi-Mi, you said that if I smash the Time Turner at any point, it will catapult me forward to this time, because the magic will cease to work, and I'll have to go back to the time I was meant to be in. But Dad isn't meant to be in this time, he's meant to be in yours."_

_"Not too many experiments have been done," says my aunt almost apologetically. "None of us can really know what will happen."_

_"I won't leave without Daddy!" I cry pathetically._

_Mum looks me straight in the face, and on her face she has a burning stare that I've never seen before. "Susan Lily Potter, you come back to me, with or without your father. I've lived without him for seventeen years, but I can't live without you."_

_I swallow convulsively. "Yes, Mum."_

_"Now, let's get on with the lesson," she says, her voice steady, betraying nothing._

_My aunt glances at her, then looks back at me. "Very well," she says. "We'll continue."_

I remembered this scene now as though it had floated up from a Pensieve. I thought about why I had been so frightened, and the truth was, I had been all right with traveling back in time, as long as I had been perfectly certain of the chain of events that would occur. But faced with that final uncertainty, I balked.

Oh, I wouldn't have ducked out of the mission. I knew, had known for years, that there was no way around it. But the question of my final day in my parents' time was one that vexed me terribly, and the only way I found to settle my mind was to work even harder at memorizing everything else my mum and aunt would tell me. I didn't want any surprises.

Now, strangely enough, I was not living from day to day as one who knows the future; rather, I was treating the displacement as a foreign exchange student might. As far as the Horcruxes went, I always consulted my memories of my training. But aside from the one time way back at Bill's wedding when I remembered that I would be dosed with Veritaserum, I didn't apply much of my future knowledge in my dealings with my long-since grown relations. It was just my life, and I was living it as I chose.

I came again in my mind to the question of Neville. So far, none of my relations had questioned me about him; it was entirely possible, I thought, that the rumor mill hadn't bothered grinding as far as the Gryffindor screw-up and the weird, quiet Weasley cousin were concerned. Or it was possible that some or all of them had heard, and they were merely being polite by not asking.

Which led me to my next question: had Mum known about Neville all my life? If so, why hadn't she mentioned him to me? Had she wanted me to conduct my relationship without the thought of my mother peering at us from some point in the distant future? Had she simply wished to respect my wishes by keeping as silent as I had to this point?

Or did she truly not know about this? Had I managed to keep this huge secret from my own mother?

In either case, I was beginning to see why I hadn't seen much of Neville through the years. Whether we would continue as a couple throughout the school year or not, it would have been very strange for him to see a child version of the young woman he'd once snogged in Sprout's greenhouses. And if Mum had ever found out about us . . . well, who knows how Mum would have reacted had she seen Neville talking to me when I was fourteen or fifteen?

I let my head fall into my hands. This was getting more and more complicated by the day. On the one hand, I was measuring out how many days I had left to be alive for certain; on the other, I was really enjoying myself. And while I was chartering new, lovely territory in my time with Neville, I was also lying to myself and to him by acting as though we could go on forever.

Really, it all gave new meaning to "living on borrowed time."

As I sat in the Common Room alone, staring at the dying fire, I tried to make myself detach from this little piece of the past; I tried to view the experience dispassionately, as an observer from another time. But I couldn't do it: I loved being at school with my parents, my aunt, my uncle. I loved my classes; I loved the excitement of being included, even peripherally, in the heroes' adventures; I loved playing the part of the visiting Seer. And as for Neville --

I couldn't do it. I couldn't be an anthropologist of this era. I had to live it, participate in it fully, or I'd regret it for the rest of my life. However long that might be.

With that settled, I climbed up to my dorm room, where Mum was sleeping soundly. I smiled at her small form, despite a momentary pang of homesickness that hit me when I saw her face. Then I got into bed and fell asleep thinking of what classes I had the next day.


	14. A Tornado in Ottery St Catchpole

_Author's Note: Thanks for your patience! I'm home again, and here's the next chapter. As I warned you all, the thoughtful chapters are at an end (for now), and the action has begun again. Which means we're heading into very upsetting territory . . . ._

When December rolled around, I was invited to spend the Christmas holiday at the Burrow with the Weasley family. Hermione, understandably enough, was splitting her time between her home and the Burrow; Harry had been persuaded to come after he was reminded that no one had attacked the house when he was there for Bill's wedding, so it seemed safe enough for him to be there.

As for me, I knew what was going to happen. I didn't try to stop it.

Molly greeted us in London cheerfully; I knew she was always happiest when she had all her children with her. She gave Ron a huge kiss on the cheek, which he stoically allowed, then eyed Mum carefully. She looked her up and down, and I suddenly realized that she was looking for signs of pregnancy. I squirmed guiltily.

"Mum?" Ginny said worriedly.

Molly snapped to attention. "Sorry, love -- just seeing if you're putting on any weight."

Ginny frowned. "Definitely not. And you've never cared about that sort of thing!"

"You're quite right, dear. Just making sure you don't need new robes!"

"No," Ginny said suspiciously, and turned away from her mother to get her trunk.

Molly came to Harry next. "Oh, Harry dear, I'm so glad you'll be spending the holiday with us. Remus and Nymphadora will be with us for Christmas afternoon, too -- that should be lovely, don't you think?"

"Sure," said Harry uncertainly. I would've bet money that he was wishing Sirius could have been there.

"Be a dear and help Ginny with her trunks, would you?" He did, and Molly finally turned to me. "Hello, Susan. Hogwarts like you remember it?"

I glanced around nervously, but everyone was engaged in fighting with their luggage. "For the most part."

"When should I be expecting my little girl to be . . . expecting?"

"Not for a while," I said quietly. "And Grandma, you have to be . . . careful. You never who could be listening."

She smiled. "You worry too much. Things will happen as they happen, am I correct?"

I thought for a moment. "I suppose that's correct. But I don't like thinking of it that way."

Now Molly peered at me thoughtfully. "Hmm. Probably that's for the best . . . unless --"

But Ron interrupted her. "I'm knackered, Mum, can't we go on home?"

"Of course we can, dear," she said. "Have you said good-bye to Hermione?" Ron blushed and mumbled something; Molly merely said, "Good, and when are we to expect her at the Burrow?"

"Boxing Day," he muttered.

"Wonderful. Let's get your things to the nearest Floo. Ron, dear, you and Harry will Apparate?"

"Right," he said, and was gone the next moment. Harry saw him blink out and followed close behind. Meanwhile, Mum, Molly and I took our things and walked to the nearest bank of Floo ports, then went back to the Burrow.

The next few days were fairly idyllic. The Weasley children filed in one by one, excepting Percy, who had never found it in his heart to forgive his family for siding with Dumbledore over the Ministry. We spent long, lazy afternoons sampling Molly's baked goods, reading old books, playing with Fred and George's latest inventions, and swapping Hogwarts stories.

I listened and laughed, but had to refrain from thinking of this as the last time that this family would convene without the sorrow they'd soon be facing. It only made my mood foul and hinted to the others that something was not right.

Lying in bed on Christmas Eve, completely unable to sleep, I wished for the thousandth time that there was something I could do about the events that would transpire the next day. But things would happen the way Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi remembered them, no matter what I did. The two of them had drilled it into me a hundred times: no matter what I did, no matter what I said, it would only further serve the future that they remembered occurring. I had no power to change anything that they had told me would happen.

And yet . . . .

It was a sleepless night.

In the morning, everyone got up early to start Christmas Day off right. The Weasleys didn't have enough money to have piles of presents under the tree, but everyone had gotten everyone else one thing, and with the number of people there, it made for a festive Christmas morning. Every Weasley child received the matter-of-course Weasley sweater, as did I, which delighted me. Mine was forest green with a navy cursive "S" embroidered on the lefthand breast.

I managed to sneak a peek at what Mum and Dad had gotten each other; Harry (who, I knew, had plenty of money to spare, which in fact was legally mine in my time) had purchased a small toy unicorn for Ginny, a little white figure that pawed the ground and threw its head around, making its tiny horn glint in the lamplight. Ginny obviously adored it, and let it pace the length of her hand while she kissed Harry for his thoughtfulness.

She'd gotten him a wizarding photograph, which I thought was rather banal, until I saw that it was actually a changing photograph; it would display one image until it was shaken vigorously, at which point it would dissolve into another picture. I saw Harry shaking it several times, a small smile playing at his lips. In the end, he placed it reverently in his notecase and kissed her in thanks.

As for me, I'd gotten some rather generic wizarding gifts, like an Exploding Snap set, which didn't bother me in the slightest; most of the Weasley clan didn't know me at all. Ron and Hermione had gone in together for a book on Divination; Harry had bought me a little talisman that you wore around the wrist to ward off evil; Ginny got me a gold necklace with a tiny crystal ball as the pendant. The sight of the last gift startled me; I had seen my mother wearing it often while I was growing up. Was I supposed to give it back to her at some point?

All of us had a late breakfast together, feasting on breakfast meat, pancakes, and pumpkin juice. As the day wore on, I became more and more agitated, and glanced at my watch. The time was drawing nearer.

Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi hadn't let me in on many details. I didn't know if it was because it was too much for them to discuss, or because they didn't want me to seem suspicious in the midst of it, but I only had the vaguest idea of what would occur. But I did know what time it would begin.

Finally at a quarter to two, I couldn't stand it. I didn't care about the past or future, I only cared about the now. I shrieked, "They're coming!!"

The whole house fell still. After a moment, Harry got up and ran over to me, crouching by my seated form. "What is it, Susan?" he asked in a low, urgent voice.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Harry. They're coming. They're coming here."

"Voldemort?"

"No, his minions. They're coming. They're coming NOW."

He stared at me for another moment. Then he grabbed his wand out of his waistband. "Seal the house off," he said. "Colloportus, or something stronger, if you know it."

"Hold on a moment, mate," Charlie said. "This girl just says that they're coming and you --"

"I don't have time for this," Harry said, his tone clipped and rather cold. "Ginny, Ron, Hermione?"

They nodded briskly and ran off to secure the house. Harry looked into my face again. "Susan? How much time do we have?"

"Fifteen minutes, maybe," I choked out. Was this how it was supposed to go? It must have been. Oh sweet merciful Merlin, I didn't want to be there for what was coming -- !

Now Bill spoke up. "Harry, what on earth is going on?"

"Susan has proven herself to be correct on a number of occasions," he replied cryptically. "I don't want to take any chances."

Molly had risen and turned white. "Susan?"

I looked at her and nodded, my face a mask of misery.

She pursed her lips. "I'll re-strengthen the windows," she said, and scurried off to do just that.

Fred and George stood. "Well, George, if this little bird says we're going to have all the lovely chaps formerly of Azkaban over here --"

"-- prob'ly they've nowhere to go for Christmas Day, Fred, isn't it a shame? --"

"-- then we've got to make sure they're as welcome here as any family member, no?"

"Certainly, Fred. I'm sure you're thinking what I'm thinking."

"Righto, George," said Fred, and the two Disapparated, then reappeared a moment later, their arms full of inventions from their bedroom. "Ammunition," said Fred briefly, and began boobytrapping the house.

"Don't touch anything," warned George.

Arthur, meanwhile, was staring at me. "Young lady, I imagine we'll discuss this later. But for the time being, I'll check the Apparition wards."

I merely sat on the floor, my arms wrapped around my legs, and rocked back and forth miserably. I knew what would happen. I knew.

Through my haze of guilt and regret, I dimly heard Bill and Fleur arguing quietly.

"I want you out of here, Fleur."

"Not a shance. Not while you and your family are een danger. I will stay and fight."

"Please be reasonable."

"Non. You are ze one who eez being unreasonable. I am a fighter, Bill: you knew zis when you married me."

Bill's voice sounded desperate now. "Fleur, please, if not for me, then for the child."

I tried to block out their voices. There was nothing I could do, I knew. Edouard's birthday was in November, still eleven months away -- the baby Fleur was carrying was not her firstborn. Things would happen as I'd been told they would, but I wanted so badly to avert them.

Fleur was oblivious to my inner struggle, and sounded unperturbed by the possibility of danger. "Non, Bill, just stay with me no matter what, and I will be fine."

Just then, a terrible whistling noise came from outside. I finally stood and looked out the window; it looked like a tornado was blowing down the street, which was quite impossible.

All the Weasleys rushed to the windows. "Bloody hell," breathed Ron, and no one smacked him or told him to watch his language.

The tornado blew right up to the front door as we all stood frozen in horror, our wands at the ready. It rattled all the windows and the door as well, but everything held.

Then, all of a sudden, the door blew in, and the tornado became not a whirlwind but three Death Eaters in the middle of the living room: Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and Fenrir Greyback.

For a moment there was utter stillness. Later I would think it was because the Weasleys were so inherently good-natured that they couldn't bring themselves to strike first. At the time, though, I was merely stunned by the foes' appearance, and imagined the others felt the same.

"We're here for the widdle baby Potter," Bellatrix drawled. "Can he come out to pway?"

At that, all hell broke loose. The room was cramped with people, and the curses flew like tiny fireworks, bouncing off all the surfaces. The Death Eaters had, of course, chosen the exact right time to strike: the Weasleys and Harry were being exceedingly careful not to hit their own, while the Death Eaters struck with impunity.

After a minute or so, Dolohov's loud, harsh voice clanged out: "HALT! Stop, or I'll kill him."

Everyone stopped to see what he meant. In the crook of Dolohov's arm was Charlie's neck.

I was weeping already. Dolohov held Charlie at wandpoint, and green light crackled at its tip. "Give me Potter and I'll let him go." Charlie's face, illuminated by the eldritch glow, was strangely serene. He struggled against Dolohov's arm, but it looked as though he knew it was no good.

Harry made to step forward, but Arthur took him firmly by the arm. "We do not make deals with the evil and insane," the patriarch said steadily.

"Suit yourself," Dolohov said, and a moment later, Charlie slumped to the ground, dead.

Molly screamed, and it was neverending. I seized the lull to shoot a Full Body-Bind in Greyback's direction; he hit the ground like a statue.

Bellatrix, though, wasn't through negotiating, and she addressed Arthur. "Well, blood traitor, we could spend all day killing off your widdle sons, but it's so much more entertaining for us if we mix it up a bit." Then she leveled her wand at Fleur, who was standing resolutely in front of Ginny, and said, "Abortio," as clear as a bell.

Fleur crumpled. Her knees hit the ground heavily, and her periwinkle gown began to become soaked with blood. "Non," she whispered. "You monster, you horrible abomination, non, non, non."

Bill roared, and the sound was inhuman. He knelt down beside his wife and cradled her as she wept.

"Now are we feeling more prepared to make a deal?" Bellatrix cooed, holding us each at wandpoint in turn. "If you'll just --"

"AVADA KEDAVRA," came a terrible voice from behind her, and Bellatrix's expression briefly registered surprise before she fell to the ground, dead. Dolohov whirled around to see the speaker, but Harry was ready for that; he yelled "INCARCEROUS!" and Dolohov was swiftly bound up by a huge coil of metallic-looking cable.

Tonks strode in, her expression utterly unreadable, and kicked Bellatrix's body. "Farewell, Auntie," she said. Then she looked up at Fleur. "Bill, please take your wife to St. Mungo's now. Use the Floo; don't Apparate." When they merely looked at her, she stared at them stonily. "Go NOW."

They obeyed, Fleur limping to the fireplace, clutching her abdomen, Bill supporting her with both arms.

The Auror saw Greyback lying rigid on the floor and Stunned him without pausing. Then Tonks turned to Dolohov. "You're lucky Harry incapacitated you before I had the chance to kill you," she said flatly. "Scrimgeour's been very generous with new powers for Aurors. Well, in any case, someone will be along soon to collect you two and pack you off to Azkaban." Then she Stunned him and turned to survey the room.

Upon seeing Charlie's body, she looked only sad, not surprised. "I thought I detected a Killing Curse in here," she said bitterly. Then she knelt by Charlie's body and closed his eyes. "Make your way in peace," she said to the still body.

It was this that finally roused Molly from her torpor. She half-ran, half-fell across the room to embrace Charlie's corpse. "My baby!" she sobbed. "My baby, my baby, come back, come BACK."

No one said a word, but Arthur stumbled after her to embrace her and his dead son. Tonks surveyed the rest of us. Ginny was clutching Harry, who stood as still and white as marble. Fred and George were standing so close it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. Ron had dug his fingers into his palms, which had begun to trickle a bit of blood. I was standing straight, my face a mess of wetness.

"Come on, you lot," Tonks said. "Let's go into the kitchen. Remus has gone for the Order. They'll be here soon."


	15. Procedure

_Author's Note: Perhaps a bit of an anticlimax, but I watch too much_ Law & Order _to skip this bit. I was absolutely astounded by the comments on the last chapter, and I thank you all very sincerely for your continued support and encouragement. It means the world to me!_

We slumped into the kitchen en masse. Now Ginny began to cry, and Ron wasn't far behind. Harry, Fred, and George were all dry-eyed, but the anger and fierce grief emanating from them was almost palpable.

Tonks sat down at the kitchen table, her wand still drawn, and spoke calmly. "Let's start with the basics. Who was present when the perpetrators broke in?"

"We all were," gritted Harry. "We were all right where they could strike us."

Tonks all but ignored this. "Fred, George, I know your parents had a security system set up. Did you have any warning?"

George spoke, and his voice was strange. "We had a warning, but it wasn't from the system. She knew," he said, and pointed straight at me.

I went cold, then hot. Of course. Of course they would tell Tonks, who would tell the Ministry, and they would --

-- but they wouldn't. That wasn't what Hermione and Mum remembered. I wasn't dragged away kicking and screaming by Unspeakables. How was I supposed to get out of this mess?

Tonks turned her professional gaze on me. "Susan? Is that true?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said in a low voice.

"And how did you know?"

The two options fought for supremacy in my brain: I could confess now, or I could continue on with my lie. When I looked around at the grief-stricken faces in the small kitchen, I knew I couldn't heap more worries on their heads today. I'd have to lie.

"I'm a Seer," I said, almost too quietly to be heard.

"A Seer?" Tonks said. To her credit, she sounded neither incredulous nor encouraging. "Are you registered as such with the Ministry? Or with the American Magical Congress?"

"No, ma'am," I said.

"Well, I'm sure you understand that we cannot let that claim pass untested. You could easily be a spy."

"She's not!" Harry cried. All eyes turned to him. "She's . . . she's not."

"Harry," Tonks began gently, "the two options here are that she's a Seer, or she's a spy. Absent proof of the first, I must assume the latter. And I can't report that she's a Seer unless she's registered as a Seer with the Ministry."

"NO," I gasped, and the word came like I was surfacing for air after drowning. "No, I can't do that."

"Why not?" Tonks asked, and now her voice was tinged with suspicion.

"He Who Must Not Be Named," I stuttered. "He has spies in the Ministry, and he targets Seers. He kidnaps them, tortures them, kills them. I can't, please don't make me."

Now Tonks looked shocked. I thought I could guess why: though Voldemort's abuse of registered Seers was common knowledge in my time, it hadn't been discovered by the general public until the tell-all books began rolling out years after the war's end. "How . . . ?"

"Please, Tonks," I said. "I'll See what I can See for you, I'll do anything to prove myself, but don't put me on that list."

She paused for a moment. "We'll get back to this. In the meantime, can anyone give me a sequence of events?"

No one spoke for a long moment. Then Ron's voice cut in, thick with tears. "We'd all gone round the house to secure it. Then we saw this . . . whirlwind coming down the street. It came right up to the front stoop and blew the door in. The three -- the three Death Eaters, you saw them, we tried to fight them off, and they told us --" Here he stopped.

I was surprised to hear Ginny's voice next, and her tone was fiery. "They told us to hand over Harry."

Everyone surreptitiously looked at Harry, who was white as porcelain. "I wanted to go," he rasped.

"Dad wouldn't let him," Ginny said staunchly. "So Dolohov killed -- he -- he killed --"

"Charlie," George said. "He murdered Charlie."

Tonks nodded. "And then?"

"Mum screamed," Fred continued. "Just screamed and screamed."

"What about Fleur?" Tonks pressed.

"She must've been pregnant," whispered Ginny. "I don't know how far along, but none of us had noticed. I don't know if Bill knew."

"Bill knew," I said, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "I heard them talking about it."

"Cor blimey," breathed Fred. "And he let her fight?"

"He didn't want her to," I said. "But she wouldn't listen."

"Please," Tonks broke in. "What exactly happened?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange made her miscarry," Harry said. "She just pointed her wand at her and did it without batting an eye."

Tonks shook her head. "If I'd been here a minute earlier, I could've stopped her. She's one of the few we have orders to kill on sight." Then she sat up straighter and took a notebook out of her jacket pocket. "Anyway. I'll just need you lot to sign off on the statement I'll write about what happened, and you can go see Fleur in the hospital."

"Will she be all right?" Ginny asked anxiously.

Tonks frowned as she furiously scribbled. "That spell is supposed to be performed by a licensed Healer in a sterile setting with therapeutic potions on hand. But she got to St. Mungo's quickly, so I suppose . . . ."

"She'll be fine," I said. "I mean, perhaps not mentally for a bit, but she'll have children after this."

"Righto," Tonks said, adding a few final flourishes to her statement. "Why don't the rest of you sign off on this, and Susan and I can have a bit of a chat? When you're done, just go into the parlor and Floo over to St. Mungo's; I'll let your parents know where you are."

Each of the Weasley children and Harry read the statement in turn, then signed their names with Tonks' pen. Each signature glowed a bit after it was finished, indicating that they were legally binding. Then the others filed out, leaving Tonks and me in the kitchen alone.

"Susan," she said gently, "I've known many Seers in my line of work. And it is extraordinarily rare for a Seer to See things without the aid of some Divining technique. It is even more rare for someone to See on command, as you seem to just have done regarding Fleur's health. Would you like to tell me the truth?"

I swallowed hard. My disguise had been enough to fool regular people, but an Auror . . . I was losing this battle.

"I'll tell you," I said slowly, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

Tonks settled back in her chair and folded her arms. "I can't do that."

"Then I can't tell you," I countered.

She raised an eyebrow. "You'll end up in Azkaban."

I shook my head. "I'd leave before you could throw me in there." My Time Turner was in my school trunk, but I knew I could think of an excuse to go to my trunk before being arrested.

"'Leave'? And go where?"

"I'll tell you, but it has to be our secret," I repeated stubbornly.

She furrowed her brow. "Fine. But Aurors are permitted to break these sorts of agreements if people are in imminent danger -- for example, if you're a spy."

I nodded. "I know. And I'm not a spy." I took a deep breath. I didn't know how to break this after all these months. "You know . . . I had a terrible crush on your son in third year. We're best friends, and I just thought he was so cute. But I wasn't his type, I guess."

Now Tonks was gaping at me. I continued, "You don't have to worry about the lycanthropy. It's not hereditary, and Remus is always very careful. He's not a Metamorphmagus, either. He's very normal, actually. His birthday is in June, so I guess you'll be pregnant well before next Christmas."

"Shut up!" Tonks hissed. "You can't know that! You can't!"

I smiled. "I know how worried you are, but you don't have to be. He's fine. He's just fine."

She grabbed my shoulders and shook me, though not hard enough to hurt me. "I said SHUT UP."

"There's this one song he loves -- I think it's a Muggle song, 'cause I've never heard anyone else sing it. I think your father must've sung it to you, and you sang it to him." I wasn't much of a singer, but I did my best: "'Here comes the sun, doo-en doo doo, here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right. Little darling, it's been a long, cold, lonely winter; little darling, it seems like years since you've been here . . . .'"

Her face went blank. Her hands fell from my shoulders and rested uselessly on the kitchen table. "That's -- that's what Dad used to sing me to help me fall asleep. It's by a Muggle band he used to love."

I nodded. "I figured. One time in second year, I got terribly sick from a potion I'd brewed wrong, and he put me to bed and sang it for me until I fell asleep."

She focused on my face. "You -- you're from the future?"

"Yes."

"Why did you come back?"

That gave me pause. "Well, Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi remember my being here this year, so I suppose I just had to."

I saw Tonks mouth "Aunt Mi-Mi." Then comprehension dawned. "Bloody hell, you're Ginny's DAUGHTER. THAT's why you two look so much alike! And your eyes -- good heavens. You're --"

"Yes."

Now she smiled tentatively, tears starting to brim in her eyes for the first time that day. "And you know my son?"

I chuckled at that a little. "Oh yeah, definitely. He's my best mate." As soon as I said it, I wondered if it was true anymore, after all I'd been through in this time.

"Can you prove any of this?" was her next question.

I shrugged. "I can show you my Time Turner."

She nodded. "That would be enough." A pause, then, "Wait, why didn't you avert this?? That's your uncle who's dead out there!"

I glared at her, tears beginning again. "You think I wanted this to happen? But that's how everyone remembers it happening in my time. I couldn't have saved Charlie. I couldn't even have saved Fleur. Whatever I did, the outcome would've been the same."

Tonks thought for a moment. "Merlin, this must be killing you, to watch it all happen and not be able to stop it."

I held my chin up. "I trust I'm here for some reason. I can't make everything right, but I hope I can make some things better."

"Strong," Tonks said offhandedly. "You're strong. When do you go back to your time?"

"Well, in the spring . . . either that, or I die. I'm not sure."

"Brave, too," she remarked. "Not bad Auror material."

I shook my head rapidly. "Mum would kill me."

She laughed a little at that. "Well, I look forward to watching you grow up, Susan. Your secret is safe with me. I'll put in my report that I put you through the Seer exam and you passed with flying colors, but due to security concerns, you shouldn't be listed in our records. Now go to St. Mungo's with your -- parents?"

"Please don't," I cautioned her. "I need to keep this cover."

"Absolutely," she said. "Now I have to go counsel Molly and Arthur about funeral rites." She sighed heavily. "Does it get any better?"

"Life? Sure," I said. "Just wait till Jamie's born."

"Jamie," she whispered. "Of course."

I slipped out of the kitchen while she was still lost in her reverie.


	16. A Loss for Words

_Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm not even sure what else to say at this point!_

At the hospital, I navigated my way to the fourth floor, Spell Damage. I found the family in the Offensive Magic Damage ward, which was, unfortunately, full to brimming with wizards and witches in various states of injury, thanks to Voldemort's minions.

Fleur was in a bed at the end, surrounded by Harry and all the Weasleys who'd been with me in the kitchen, plus Bill, of course. Her face was slack and even whiter than usual. Her normally lustrous hair was dull. Bill's face was tearstained and his expression was one of fury. He clutched her hand ferociously.

I slipped in between Ron and Ginny and didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

After a few minutes, a Healer-in-Training came round. "Mrs. Weasley?" he said to Fleur, trying to rouse her.

"_Oui_?" she said wearily.

"We've gone over your files and the results of all our diagnostic spells. Because of the quickness of your response, you've suffered minimal internal damage. There's no reason you shouldn't be able to get pregnant again within the next month or so."

She stared up at him with dim eyes. "Eez zat so?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, clearly a bit nervous.

Fleur turned her head away from him and stared at the wall. Bill glanced up at the young trainee. "Get out of here," he growled, and the trainee scuttled away as fast as he could without sacrificing his dignity.

"Two months," she whispered, stumbling a little on the second word, which was evidently difficult for her to pronounce. "For two months I 'ave been planning . . . waiting . . . dreaming . . . ." She trailed off. "My poor baby."

We all fell into silence, except Bill, who had begun to sob. I couldn't torment her with a vision of the future, not here, not now.

At some point, the senior Healer came by. "Mrs. Weasley, I am terribly sorry for your loss," he said briskly, but sincerely. "There's no reason for us to keep you here. You should spend the rest of Christmas at home. We'll give you a few more doses of anti-hemorrhaging potion to take over the next twenty-four hours. Is that all right?"

She nodded listlessly, and Bill helped her up. We all shuffled back so he could draw the curtain around her bed; he needed to help her out of her hospital robes and back into her street robes. They emerged a few moments later looking much as they had when they'd come downstairs for Christmas that morning -- had it really been that very morning? -- except for the twin, deadened expressions on their faces.

We Flooed back to the Burrow where, mercifully, Charlie's body had been removed, and Molly and Arthur had apparently gone with it to make the funeral arrangements. The house was cold, and it seemed larger than it usually did. Someone made tea, which no one drank. At some point, Harry and Ginny withdrew to the upstairs; I assumed Harry was bursting with guilt and needed to foist it upon my poor mother.

About an hour into our vigil, Ron stood up. "I'm going to go out walking. Anyone else?"

I jumped up. I felt awful, but I couldn't stay in the house any longer. "I'll come."

He nodded, and we bundled up and headed outside. The sun was setting, but the sky was just a glaring shade of silver. I could see my breath as I exhaled.

"So you knew about this ahead of time?" Ron asked briefly.

"Yeah," I said.

"Could we have saved him?"

"No."

"All right," he said, and it was the last we spoke of it.

It felt better, to be out in the open, though we both had our wands at the ready just in case. The darkness descended, and I was glad Ron knew where he was going, because I was hopelessly lost. At length we came upon a tiny Muggle shop. "Let's go in," Ron said, and I thought I knew what he was planning on doing.

Inside it was wonderfully warm. An elderly Indian man stood behind the front counter reading a newspaper in a language I couldn't begin to decipher. "Sir?" Ron said.

The man looked up. "Yes?"

"Our -- our telephone is down back home. May I use yours? I'll, er, I'll charge the reverse. Er, reverse the charges, rather."

The proprietor looked at Ron rather suspiciously, but I fished a twenty-pound note out of the recesses of my coat and held it conspicuously. I'd gotten in the habit of carrying Muggle money since my days at Muggle primary school. "May I see your selection of magazines?" I asked pointedly.

He looked at the money, then told Ron, "Go ahead. And don't bother reversing the charges. It's the least I can do. You two look like you've been through the wars."

I felt tears in my eyes again. "Thank you, sir. I really would like to see the magazines."

He nodded and led me to the magazine section, where I pored over a Muggle women's magazine and ogled their techniques for hairstyling and make-up. It felt ridiculous, after witnessing Charlie's death and Fleur's miscarriage, that I could be so soothed by a mindless women's magazine. But I remembered long, lazy afternoons when Mum and I read them and painted each other's toenails, and I felt calmer. Everything would be all right in the future. I knew that, knew it as surely as I knew my eyes mirrored my father's.

I chose a couple particularly ridiculous magazines, then made my way to the front counter. It was then I heard Ron on the phone.

". . . just fell to the floor. Dead. They killed him, Hermione. And then Fleur -- they gave her a miscarriage, right there in the living room. It was unreal." A pause. "The rest of us, we're all fine. I mean, I guess some of us got hit, but we just shook it off, y'know?" Pause. "I haven't spoken to him. He sequestered himself with Ginny." Long pause. "I'm sure you're right. Then again, has Harry ever NOT felt guilty about something that happened to us?" Pause. "No, no, I know." Pause. "So when do you think you can be here?" Pause. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Pause. "I love you too. I'll see you soon." Then he hung up, and I hurriedly tried to looklike I hadn't been listening.

I bought the magazines and we walked back to the house, where we found Arthur and Molly, along with Tonks, Remus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, and everyone who'd been there when we'd left. Bill and Fleur had apparently retired, which was perfectly understandable. The house was strangely quiet; no one seemed to want to say much of anything.

I was sitting on a windowsill, staring off into the night, when Ron sat up straight, as though he'd scented something, and jogged over to the front door. Molly looked up anxiously, but Ron opened the door and let in Hermione, who slipped in quietly. She looked around and managed to catch Harry's eye, who seemed surprised to see her. Dad shrugged Mum off for a moment, and the three friends retired to the kitchen, where they would converse in that way that only the three of them could. Ginny, looking resigned, made to retire, when her father spoke up.

"Your brother's funeral will be the day after tomorrow," Arthur said. "We'll need all of you to help clean the house tomorrow to get ready for the guests." We all murmured our assent. "Molly and I would like to thank you for everything. Whoever needs to stay here tonight is welcome to."

One by one, the mourners shuffled off to bed, but I sat on the windowsill still, wide awake. I had no idea of the time. I just knew I couldn't go to bed quite yet.

When everyone else had gone upstairs, Molly asked Arthur to make her some warm milk to bring to bed. When he'd left the room, Molly approached me.

"Will Fleur be all right?" she asked quietly.

My heart nearly broke. Here she'd just lost her son, and she was asking after her daughter-in-law. "She'll be fine. In fact, you'll have a grandson before next Christmas."

Molly exhaled in relief. "Thank heavens. Oh, thank heavens."

"I'm so sorry, Molly," I said, beginning to cry again. "I wish I'd been able to save Charlie."

Molly shook her head. "Without your warning, we might've all been dead. And Harry would've been in You Know Who's hands. If anyone brought this on, it was me. This is just what Gideon said would happen."

I felt my heart give a queer knock. "No, Grandma. You can't blame yourself. You musn't."

She shook her head again. "I'll always blame myself a little. That's what being a mother is. And a mother who brought a curse upon her family . . . ."

Arthur walked back in, mug of warm milk in hand. "Molly? We should go up to bed."

Molly nodded, took the mug, and began to climb the stairs. Arthur followed, then turned to look at me. "Thank you for the warning, Susan," he said, and went up after his wife.

Finally I was alone in the parlor. The wind howled outside disconsolately, and I imagined that the wind felt much the same way I did.

I knew if I went up to the room I was sharing with Mum, I'd be intruding on Ginny and Hermione's time together. I desperately needed to talk to someone, but everyone here had their counterpart except me.

Impulsively, I cast a glance at the fireplace. It wasn't impossible that I could --

I scurried over to the fire and grabbed the jar of Floo powder. Kneeling on the mantle, I tossed a pinch of the silver power into the flames, stuck my head into the fire, and cried, "Longbottom residence!"

The fireplaces moved past dizzily, and I fought the urge to close my eyes against them. After a few moments, I could focus on an unfamiliar family room. Black and white wizarding photos of a smiling young couple adorned every wall; the woman bore a strong resemblance to Neville, and I realized with a start that the couple must have been Neville's parents.

I heard footsteps almost immediately, and a beam of wandlight danced over the hardwood floor. "Show yourself!" hissed Neville.

"Neville, it's me, I'm in the fireplace."

He looked down, saw me, and crouched down to get at eyelevel. "Susan, what are you doing here?"

"Happy Christmas to you, too," I said.

"Sorry, let me try again. Happy Christmas, Susan, what are you doing here?"

I sighed. "Today has been completely pants, to say the least, and I wondered if I could . . . come over?"

"Now?"

"Now."

Neville looked around nervously. "Well, my grandmother went to bed ages ago . . . ."

"Please, Neville."

He looked at my face and seemed to grow braver even as I watched. "Yeah, come on over."

"I'll be there in three shakes," I said, and withdrew my head. Then I went over to the coatrack, took my present for Neville out of my coat pocket -- I'd been carrying it around for ages -- ran my fingers through my hair a few times, took another pinch of Floo powder, and stepped through the emerald flames to Neville's living room.

He was waiting for me, and I noticed for the first time he was in his pajamas. The sight of him barefoot, looking at me in concern, set me off, and I began to cry for what felt like the fiftieth time that day.

"Shhh," he said, taking me in his arms. "It's all right."

"It's not," I choked out. "Charlie Weasley is dead."

"How?" he gasped.

But I just cried, until Neville led me over to the couch and sat me down. "It's all right, Susan. Tell me what happened."

I looked into his eyes and saw the concern. "I don't want to upset you," I said through sobs.

His face changed. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he said. "It was her, wasn't it."

"She didn't kill Charlie," I said, "but she -- she -- Fleur was pregnant, and now --" I burst into tears again, and leaned against Neville for support. His arm went around me immediately, and he smoothed my hair as I sobbed.

"That bitch," he hissed.

"She's dead," I offered.

At this, he started. "DEAD??"

"Tonks killed her. She was on the Aurors' hitlist."

"Blimey." His hands dropped into his lap. "Blimey. Dead. She's dead."

I took his hands. "Yes."

"I just saw my parents today," he babbled. "I always visit them on Christmas. I wish I could've told them that she's dead. Maybe they'd -- well, they wouldn't -- but then again -- and my grandmother --"

Now it was my turn to calm him. "Shh," I said, rubbing my thumbs along the backs of his hands.

"If she didn't kill Charlie, who did?" he asked, coming back to reality a bit.

"Antonin Dolohov."

"He nearly murdered Hermione at the Department of Mysteries," he said. "Tonks ought to have killed him, too."

I shook my head. "I'd rather we not sink to their level."

"I know," he sighed, and put his arm around me again. "And Fleur? She was pregnant? And now -- ?"

"Not anymore. That was -- HER."

"Bloody hell. What won't they do?"

"I don't know," I said, suddenly weary. I looked straight at him. "I'm tired of talking about all this."

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted --"

"I did. Now, I just want --" I didn't bother finishing my sentence, just leaned in and began kissing him.

After a few minutes, he broke away and put a halting hand on my shoulder. "Susan, we've both had bloody awful days, and I don't want you doing something you'll regret later."

I shook my head. "I'm not going to regret this."

"Why don't we exchange Christmas gifts?" he offered. "Then afterwards, we can -- er, if you want, we could --"

"All right," I cut in, and put my hand into my trouser pocket. "I got you this," I said unnecessarily, and thrust a little box into his hands.

He opened it up and drew out a small, flat circle of wood that had a small symbol burned into it and a little hole for the leather cord that made it into a pendant. "I'm rubbish at Runes, but it's supposed to say 'light' or 'goodness.' And the wood is rowan wood."

He stared at it for a moment, then looped it around his neck swiftly. "I'll never take it off," he said.

"Not even to shower?" I asked, giggling a little.

"I'll put a Water-Repelling Charm on it," he said, though he smiled. "It's perfect."

Now I leaned in to kiss him again, but he pulled away. "I haven't given you your gift yet, Susan!"

"Right," I said. "Lay on, Macduff."

He looked confused by the Shakespeare, but didn't question me; the next thing I knew, I was holding a small potted plant.

I looked down at it, and its glossy green leaves seemed to quiver. "What is it?"

"It's an Ever-Blooming Tactilia plant," he explained. I shook my head; I hadn't come across it in my years of Herbology. He continued, "It's supposed to bloom whenever someone pure of heart touches it."

I looked at him. Pure of heart? What if the person touching the plant was living a lie?

But it was clear he wanted me to try it, so I brushed the backs of my fingers against the leaves. Before I could even draw my hand away, the buds at the tips of the stalks relaxed, and a host of mauve blossoms opened their little faces to me.

"It's beautiful," I said, stroking the smallest bloom. "It's lovely."

"There's one more thing I wanted to give you," he said, and his voice was strange.

I placed the plant on his coffee table. "Yes?"

At this, he leaned in as if to kiss me, but instead put his lips to my ear. "I love you, Susan."

Something coursed through my body, and I clutched his pajama top spastically. "D'you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it. I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it."

"Oh, Neville, I love you too. So much." And I kissed him, and before long I'd pinned him under me on the couch, and our shirts were abandoned somewhere along the way, and --

I barely slept at all that night; after a few hours with Neville, I realized I had to get back to the Burrow or risk rousing an enormous amount of suspicion. After a protracted good-bye, I Flooed back to the Burrow, where I went back to my windowsill, this time dragging a blanket from the couch to cover me. I leaned my head against the window and dozed off, knowing full well I'd be woken by the first early bird to come downstairs in the morning.

The early bird turned out to be Mum, who came down about two hours after I'd fallen asleep. When I heard her footsteps, I opened my eyes immediately, registered her presence, and smiled tentatively at her.

"All right?" I asked quietly, then wanted to smack myself. What an idiotic question.

To my surprise, she nodded. "I didn't kill Harry last night, which showed some greatness of will on my part, I think." When she saw my surprise, she sighed. "He's determined to blame himself. As if I didn't have enough to deal with at the mo'."

"I'm sorry," I said through a yawn.

"No, I chose Harry," she said firmly. "He's my problem for as long as he'll have me. Hopefully, for as long as we both shall live."

For a moment, I imagined the wedding my parents would have if I could bring Harry back with me. They'd certainly been through enough; it would be lovely to see them united for once and for all.

"Susan?" Ginny's voice broke through my daydream. "Let's get breakfast, yeah? I don't want to be alone."

I nodded and jumped down from the windowsill. "I make a mean porridge," I offered, and padded barefoot after her.


	17. Distance

_Author's Note: Now we're getting back into the swing of the Horcrux hunt. You've all got some action-packed chapters in store for you!!_

_My regular reviewers know this already, but I'll mention it here for the rest of you: I do respond to every review, so if you have any questions about anything that has happened or will happen, I'll do my best to answer, though I won't give the game away completely! I've said it a hundred times, but THANK YOU to my regular reviewers!! And here's to one of those, Sweettarts: Tonks' little moment of clumsiness in here is for you._

Charlie was buried in the Weasley family plot and given a hero's farewell. Many people showed up despite the danger of a Death Eater attack at the funeral itself, including Neville and his grandmother, whom I approached at the end of the service.

"Hi," I said, throwing my arms around his neck. I refrained from kissing him, leaving it up to him as to what he would tell his grandmother.

"Hi," he replied, and kissed me on the cheek, to my surprise. Then he turned to his grandmother. "Gran, this is Susan Hopkins; she's a cousin of the Weasleys."

"Very pleased to meet you, ma'am," I said, and extended my hand.

She examined me for a split second, then shook my hand. "Hopkins? I don't know that name."

"My father is a Squib," I explained, "and my mother is a Muggle."

"And are you mixed up with Potter's crowd?" she asked shrewdly.

I drew myself up a little. "Absolutely."

At that, she grinned. "Splendid. So you're the little witch who's put Neville into such a tizzy."

Neville blushed furiously, but I merely said, "Goodness, ma'am, I hope so."

"I like you," she pronounced. "Do come over any time you please, and I'll show you terribly embarrassing photographs of Neville when he was a little boy."

I smiled too. "I'd love that, ma'am."

"Wonderful. Neville, come along, we must be getting home. Miss Hopkins, the pleasure was mine."

I waved good-bye. They Disapparated, and I stood looking at the spot they'd been for a minute or so before Hermione came over to fetch me.

"Are you . . . are you dating Neville?" she asked curiously.

I looked at her quickly. It was the first anyone had mentioned it, and I didn't know quite what to say, but I didn't want to taint the truth by lying. "Yes."

She grinned. "I knew it! How long?"

"Since a little after Halloween."

"That long?" Hermione was clearly knocked off her perch by this response. "Goodness, that's nearly two months that you've been keeping it secret!"

"I wasn't intentionally keeping it secret," I said defensively. "No one asked. Besides, you're one to talk."

She blushed and smiled, and that was the end of that conversation.

Back at the house, Tonks pulled me aside and asked to see my Time Turner. I acquiesced, and we snuck off to Ginny's room, where I was staying for the holiday, so I could show it to her.

I was careful when I lifted it out of my trunk not to jostle it too much: I didn't want to suddenly be shuttled an extra year back in time. I handed it over to Tonks, who gave a low whistle as she examined it.

"This is a rare one," she said approvingly. "The hour-backs are most common, and day-backs almost as much so. But a year-back . . . I think I saw one once round the neck of an Unspeakable. I never saw her again, so she's probably years away now. However did you get your hands on it?"

"Aunt Mi-Mi requested one for research purposes. She's on the Committee on Experimental Charms. She'd had one before, so it wasn't hard to get them to agree."

"Ahh," Tonks said. "They won't be chuffed when they find it's gone AWOL."

"We're going to say that I didn't realize what it was, that I was just playing with it. After all, you don't learn about them at Hogwarts."

"No, you certainly don't," agreed Tonks. "And for good reason. Time travel is not an ideal solution to most problems."

"It has its uses," I said carefully, and Tonks smiled at me.

"It does. Now let me give this back to you before I break it myself. I'm terribly clumsy, you know."

And no sooner had she handed it back to me than she caught the toe of her trainer on my school trunk and went flying. Thankfully, the Time Turner was safely cradled against my chest, and I kept it from being jostled or broken.

"I think I shouldn't even be in the same room as that thing," Tonks joked, but I privately thought she was completely right. I put the Time Turner back in my trunk, nestled securely between layers of school robes. It was my ticket home, and I couldn't let anything happen to it.

We took the Hogwarts Express back to Scotland after the new year began. Molly sobbed as the train pulled away, and it looked like it was all Ron and Ginny could do not to jump back off the train to stay with her.

Second term started, and slowly life began to approach something like normality. My seventeenth birthday passed unnoticed on January 10th; I had told everyone that my birthday was in June, so that no one would become suspicious when I did not apply for an Apparition license. I couldn't very well have gone to the Ministry and asked to take the exam when they had no record of a Susan Hopkins ever having been born. Privately, I opened the birthday card my mother had given me to take with me last summer, which read, "My dearest Susan, you are the best and brightest star any mother could ever wish for. I love you more than you can know. Come home safely. Love, Mum."

Shortly after my uncelebrated birthday, Harry came to me again.

"Tell me about the next Horcrux," he insisted, and I knew I couldn't put him off any longer.

"All right. The next is Rowena Ravenclaw's, it's her lorgnette."

"'Lorgnette'?"

"It's like an old-fashioned magnifying glass. It's just a piece of glass in a silver frame with sapphires laid into the handle. She used it to help her read."

"Where is it?" he asked anxiously.

I sighed. "It's embedded into a lakebottom in the Lake District. And that's a problem."

He shuddered. "Are there . . . Inferi there?"

"Oh, no, no," I replied. "But the lorgnette is embedded in there very tightly, and it's a delicate old piece. If you try to remove it by force, it will shatter."

"But that's a good thing," he said, confused. "If it shatters, it'll be destroyed."

I shook my head. "If it shatters, it's just a broken Horcrux . . . still a Horcrux. You need for it to be intact to destroy it."

"Well, that is a problem." Harry flopped down on the couch beside me. "Could we encase it in some sort of Shield Spell?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "It's going to be impervious to most spells. The best you could do would be to enchant the surrounding rocks, and then you'd be hard-pressed not to damage the lorgnette."

"So what do you suggest?" he asked, surprising me. In general, Harry wasn't one to ask for help from people other than Ron and Hermione.

"Well . . . I think your best bet is to destroy it while it's still embedded in there."

He frowned. "I thought you said --"

"No, listen. Instead of removing it and trying to work on it from Hogwarts, I think you should just destroy it on-site."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

"Let's brainstorm a way to destroy it, and then you can bring whatever you need to the lake when you go."

Harry stared into the middle distance for a while, then said, "Right, let's meet in the library right after supper. We can talk about it then."

I nodded. It was late on a Sunday morning, and I surprisingly had very little homework to do, as I'd been very conscientious about using my free periods. I'd arranged to have lunch with Neville, so I went to the Great Hall after parting from Harry.

I got there first and saved him a seat. "Hello, love," he said when he came in. "Sorry I'm late; I was wrestling with my Charms homework."

"Not at all," I said, and we ate our meal contentedly. It was amazing how calm he made me. I could put all the thoughts of Horcruxes and Voldemort out of my mind when I was with Neville.

After lunch we went to visit Leonora. Our study of wand trees had ended when last term had, but Professor Sprout was keeping the trees for future classes. They'd been relegated to the rarely used Greenhouse Four, where students were normally not allowed without supervision, but Neville had gotten special permission from Sprout to visit our little rowan tree.

"Leonora, I've missed you," I announced, slinging one arm around one of her sturdier branches.

"As have I," Neville said, plopping down at the tree's roots.

We stayed like that for a while; I sensed there was something Neville wanted to tell me, and I wanted to give him the opportunity to speak.

Finally, at length, he spoke. "Susan, I was talking to Professor Sprout about what I might do after graduation."

Oh. That. My heart pounded painfully, and my fingers began to tingle. Was it time already to have this conversation?

"There are a few Herbologists in the Isles and on the Continent who would take me on as an apprentice. That's what I've always wanted. But . . . ."

I looked down at him. "But?"

"But I'm in love with you," he said simply. "And I'm not chuffed about the idea of being so far away from you. So I thought I could get something temporary in Hogsmeade, come onto the grounds and study with Sprout a few days a week when she has time, and wait till you graduate to move anywhere. We could work out where we wanted to go. We wouldn't have to flat together, of course -- I imagine your parents might have something to say about that idea -- but we could at least be in the same part of the country, if nothing else." He let out a huge breath. "So. What are you thinking?"

Oh sweet Merlin, he was planning to put his entire life on hold -- and I wouldn't even be around. I felt as if the whole world was closing in around me. "Neville, I --"

"Is it too much?" he asked anxiously. "I thought maybe it might be, but I have to start making plans --"

"No, it's not that," I assured him. "I just feel awful."

He stood to face me. "Awful? Whyever should you?"

I glanced down at the hollow in his neck and saw my necklace resting in the groove there. What had I been thinking, to make him believe I'd be able to make a life with him in a couple of years? "Neville, I don't think I'll be at Hogwarts after this year."

He reeled back and grasped a low-hanging limb of Leonora for support. "What? Why?"

"I really miss my parents and my school chums," I said desperately. It wasn't a lie, it wasn't, and yet it felt so much like one I could've wept.

"Oh. Oh, of course. So you'll go back to America at the end of the year?" His voice was strained and almost too friendly.

"Neville, I'm so sorry," I choked out.

"No, no, not at all. I just assumed -- but -- right. No, you're perfectly right. You should be with your parents if you can."

"So what are you going to do?" I said, too eagerly, too quickly.

"Do? Oh, you mean after graduation? Oh, I haven't the foggiest. I hadn't got much past the Hogsmeade idea. I've always wanted to work in Ireland."

Ireland. That was where Neville lived in my day and age. "Ireland," I breathed. "I've heard the most wonderful things about Ireland."

He looked at me shrewdly. "You'd live there?"

Now I had to backpedal again. "I -- I don't know. I don't know what I want to do when I graduate."

"Susan, please," he said, nearing me again and taking my hands. "I need to know what you're thinking. Am I completely off-base here? When you leave at year's end, is that it for us?"

"I don't want it to be," I whispered. "But I'm afraid it will be."

"Why? Do you think I'll meet some gorgeous Irish lass and fall for her instead? 'Cause I promise you, that's not going to happen."

I shivered. Once again, Neville's words had the ring of a premonition, and I hated the idea of him waiting for someone who would never come. "No, I just think long-distance relationships are difficult."

"Not too difficult," he countered. "We can always owl one another."

"Sure," I said in frustration, "that works for a while. But before long, we'll lose the reference points that make our worlds similar, and it'll be harder to talk to each other. Then we'll get desperate just to be touched. And then we'll get angry at each other for no reason -- you'll be angry I'm still in school, I'll be angry that you're not anymore. We'll forget what each other's voices sound like. We'll forget what it feels like to kiss each other. And then it'll all go to hell."

There was a long silence. I couldn't quite look at Neville, but from the corner of my eye I saw him go pale and clench his fists. Finally he said, "Well, if that's how you feel about it, I'm going to have to go make other plans. Excuse me."

He shot me one look, then left without saying good-bye or kissing me.

I spent the rest of the afternoon balled up at Leonora's roots, bawling. Nothing in my life to this point had prepared me for this pain and guilt, and I was tempted to go back to my dorm and smash my Time Turner, ending my stint in this time. At least then I'd never again have to see Neville look at me with hurt in his brown eyes.


	18. Into the Depths of Wast Water

_Author's Note: The Lake District is a real place, as is the specific lake our heroes visit. I've tried very hard to be factually accurate -- my thanks to the netizens of Wikipedia for their info._

That evening after dinner, I met with the three heroes and Ginny to talk about the lorgnette. I pushed my confrontation with Neville out of my mind and did my best to appear carefree.

". . . So Susan suggested we figure out a way to destroy the Horcrux while it's still embedded in the lake," Harry concluded. "What do you lot think?"

Hermione, of course, piped up first. "Well, this is another instance in which using the object would lead to its destruction, correct?"

They all looked to me. "Yes, quite," I said distractedly.

"Then we must use the lorgnette," she said. "Obviously, its use would be reading something."

"But could we just read anything?" Ron interjected. "Could I bring a copy of, say, _Hogwarts: A History_ down to the bottom of this lake? And could we leave it there when we were finished?"

Hermione smacked him; Ginny giggled. "Susan?" Harry prompted me.

I blinked and reconsidered the question. "Er. Well, that might do it -- but then again, it might not. You'd do much better to bring something purely good."

"Purely good reading material?" asked Ron incredulously. "What on earth would that be?"

"I'm trusting that Hermione already knows," I said, half-joking.

"I think I do," she said slowly. Everyone chuckled, but she rejoined, "No, really, I do. There's a set of runes, it's called the Lightbearer's Creed, and it was used by ancient wizards and witches to invoke the forces of good. It starts and ends with the rune that means both goodness and light."

My heart gave a little jump: that was the rune on Neville's necklace. Was he even wearing it now? Or had he taken it off?

"So you figure, we bring this creed down with us to the bottom of the lake, use the lorgnette to read it, and . . . it'll implode or something?" Harry summarized.

"If anything can do it, it's this," Hermione confirmed. "Susan, what do you think?"

"I agree," I said. "If you can destroy it, it'll be with these runes."

Harry nodded. "Well, the sooner the better, I say. We can go tomorrow evening after dinner."

"Wait a moment," I said. "You never know what will happen there. You'll want to save this for the weekend again."

Instantly Ginny looked worried, but Harry just nodded. "Friday night, then."

We broke a few minutes later, but Harry cornered me in the common room later. "Susan, I want you to come with us on this mission."

My heart raced. That was right; it was my turn to accompany them. "And Ginny?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

He shook his head. "I can't. If I put her in danger -- I've already killed her brother."

I frowned deeply. "I suppose it's no good telling you it wasn't your fault?"

"No good at all. So will you come?"

"Yeah, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, Ron and Hermione and I were discussing it, and we realized that Hermione is the only one who could actually read these runes, so she'll have to go down. But we don't want her to have to go down by herself. But if one of us goes down with her, there'll only be one person at the lake surface, and that doesn't seem like enough."

I nodded. "You're perfectly correct. You and Ron both will need to stay above to pull us up to safety."

Harry started at this. "Wait a second! YOU want to be the one who goes down with her?"

"It's the most logical thing to do," I countered. "I'm the one who's Seen the lorgnette. I'm a good swimmer. And you two are stronger than we are, so you'll be physically best equipped to haul us up if all else fails."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'll think about. I'll talk it over with the other two. In any case, don't make any plans for Friday."

Plans? With Neville probably not speaking to me? Not bloody likely. "Righto."

I didn't hear anything else about it until breakfast on Friday, when Hermione sat next to me at breakfast and did her best to seem covert (which meant, of course, that everyone around knew she was up to something). "Tonight," she murmured.

"Yes?"

"Meet in the common room after supper."

". . . Okay. Am I --"

"We'll talk about it then," she said, and threw her bag over her shoulder and walked away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Neville watching us surreptitiously as he ate a bowl of hot cereal. When he saw me looking at him, he looked away quickly. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I didn't let them spill over.

I went through my classes that day in a daze. I purposely went late to dinner so I wouldn't have to see Neville; unfortunately, my plan backfired.

He approached me as I sat slurping down a bowl of soup. "Susan? Can we talk?"

I looked up at him and almost choked. I was meeting the heroes in twenty minutes; now was not a good time. "Sure, sit down," I said, wanting to kick myself for my stupidity.

He glanced around. "This is awfully public."

"Sorry," I said stupidly.

"Can we get out of here and go somewhere else?"

"I can't, Neville, not tonight." His expression grew stormy, and I felt tears pricking my eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't you think you owe me at least this much?" he hissed.

I drew back, stung. "I want to talk with you. But tonight won't work."

"Fine," he said, and got up and walked away, leaving a half-finished dinner on his plate.

It was all I could do not to run after him. Instead I finished my supper, ignoring the stares of the other Gryffindors sitting around me, and went up to our common room, where Hermione, Harry, and Ron were waiting for me.

Hermione motioned for me to join them, and I did, entering their little circle. We were clustered around a map of Wast Water and the surrounding area, where I knew the Horcrux to be hidden.

"I've done quite a bit of research," Hermione said quickly and nervously, "and it looks to me as though we're going to learn a new Charm. Wast Water is the deepest lake in the country; it's twice as deep as recreational scuba divers are advised to go."

"Scuba?" broke in Ron.

"It's like, oh, you've got all sorts of equipment and training and such. And we don't have any of that," she said unnecessarily. "It'll be terribly cold, and there's no oxygen down there."

"No oxygen means no gillyweed," Harry mused.

"Right," Hermione said, almost triumphantly. "You all know the Bubble-Head Charm, right?" We nodded. "Well, there's a slight variation that will make the bubble around your whole body. Instead of Inflato Caput, say Inflato Corpus instead. Here, watch. Inflato Corpus!" In an instant, she looked as though her body were enclosed in a giant ellipse, though we could only see it indirectly by the firelight glinting off the barrier.

We saw her mouth something but couldn't hear what it was. I, assuming she'd told us to try it, did so. I knew the Bubble-Head Charm well, so it was no problem expanding it to cover the rest of me.

"Weird," I said to no one, attempting a turn about the common room. I found quickly that walking was not as good a solution as hopping, so before long I was hopping about like mad. At one point, I accidentally stumbled towards Hermione, and when our bubbles touched, they glommed on to each other, making a double-ellipse shape.

"Hello," I said, grinning. "That's rather handy, no?"

She smiled back. "The real test is going to be whether you can separate again."

I could, though it took some pulling. By this time, the boys were bouncing around in their own bubbles. For a moment, we all forgot our deadly serious mission and let ourselves act like astronauts on the Moon. But after a little while, Harry pulled his bubble down and gestured at us to do the same.

"Let's go," he said softly. We couldn't all fit under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, but it hardly mattered; with Snape gone, there were far fewer corridor hazards for us to contend with. We made it out to Hogsmeade through a secret passage on the map my grandfather had helped make.

In Hogsmeade, Harry took charge. "Ron, Hermione, you Apparate to this spot," he said, pointing to a place on the map. "Susan, I'll take you with me." Upon seeing my expression, he assured me, "I've used Side-Along Apparition before; don't worry."

Ron and Hermione nodded and blinked out a moment later. Then Harry took my arm and the world funneled to one point --

-- and we dropped into a darkened valley hundreds of miles away from Hogwarts.

I caught my breath and looked around. It was one of the most beautiful places I'd ever seen; the land rose and fell in a way characteristic of places shaped by glaciers. In the valley below us there was a massive lake, and the very sight of it chilled me. Wast Water: it was our destination tonight.

"Ready?" asked Harry steadily, and I looked up at him and his two best friends. I realized they were waiting on me.

"Sure," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, and failing. "Let's do it."

It wasn't a long trek down to the lakeside, but it felt long. By the time we got there, my feet were damp, and I was already regretting not wearing heavier robes. Scotland was, on the whole, much colder than England, but apparently the Lake District was chillier than average. Or maybe it was just a cold night.

At the lake's edge, Hermione pulled her hair back, and I did the same. Then she lit a little bluebell flame and closed it up in a jar so we'd have light in the pitch-black lake. Ron and Harry Conjured long, flexible, metallic cords; Ron attached his to Hermione, and Harry did the same for me. Hermione and I nodded once at each other and performed the Bubble-Body Charm, then waded into the shallows. We looked back at the boys, who waved forlornly, and then we dove into the lake.

The quiet in the deep was fantastic. When we'd performed the Bubble-Body Charm in the Gryffindor Common Room, there had still been a background hum, though we'd been unable to make out speech. Down here, though, there was not a sound.

I tried swimming conventionally for a bit and found it next to impossible. Hermione shook her head at me and made me watch as she poked her wand outside her bubble and shot a jet of water backwards from its tip. Instantly she shot forward, and I followed her example. Before long, we were scooting around like miniature girl-submarines in blue-lit waters.

Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi had told me to find the deepest part of the lake and I would find the lorgnette. But the lake was huge. A few times Hermione looked at me quizzically, but I shook my head. We skimmed the lakebottom, peering around in the blue firelight for anything sparkling or shining, but I could see that we were still descending, and thus weren't there yet.

After a while -- how long, I couldn't say -- I began to feel uncomfortably warm. I frowned at Hermione and got close to her so our bubbles merged. "Are you hot?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, frowning. Then comprehension dawned. "Oh, no, that means we're running out of oxygen!"

"We still have to find the lorgnette and destroy it," I said despairingly. "We'll have to go all the way back to the surface."

There was nothing for it; we had to ascend, and carefully, since we both knew that a quick ascent could damage us irreparably, regardless of the fact that as witches, we were much harder to injure than Muggles. At the surface, we looked back and realized we couldn't come close to seeing the boys on the shore.

"Gosh, we must be far away from them," Hermione said, and her voice was small.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked. "If we break our bubble now, we'll get soaked."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Ah, got it." Then she separated herself from me, leaving me in my own bubble. I didn't hear her incantation, but all of sudden I was unceremoniously hoisted into the air.

"Hey!" I cried, though no one could hear me. She'd levitated me, of course. While I hovered in mid-air, I pulled down the bubble, let myself breathe in the cold night air for a moment, then made another bubble. Hermione let me down gently, and then I did the same for her. In another minute, we dove straight back down.

It was another half-hour at least of searching before we came upon it. Something glinted on the lakebottom, and we turned to each other in excitement. It was the lorgnette; we'd found it!

It stood perfectly straight, handle down, shining unnaturally in the firelight. The sapphires in the handle sparkled dangerously. It looked not unlike a miniature, ridiculously adorned Quidditch goalpost.

Hermione gestured for me to stay back, and she took a length of parchment from her trouser pocket that, I knew, had the Lightbearer's Creed on it. She peered at the lorgnette for a long moment then decided, apparently, just to let it be incorporated into her bubble so she could use it to read the Creed. She positioned herself on top of it and used her wand to propel herself downwards.

I remembered a moment too late what would happen. I cried out to stop her, but of course she couldn't hear me. As soon as the lorgnette came into contact with her bubble, it burst, leaving Hermione suspended in the deep, defenseless.

She passed out almost immediately, though from shock or lack of oxygen, I couldn't tell. I almost panicked, but reminded myself that I had to save us both. If I touched the lorgnette, we'd both be dead. So I manuevered around it and pulled Hermione to me, enclosing her in my bubble.

She was limp and sodden, and I couldn't tell if she was breathing. I settled us down on the lakebottom a few yards from the lorgnette and cried "Rennervate!" to no effect. Then I remembered the Muggle method of saving drowning people -- taught to me by, of course, Hermione -- and blew into her mouth gently.

She wasn't responding. "Come on, Hermione!" This was insane. I knew her in the future! She couldn't die now! And yet I was growing more and more terrified by the moment.

I blew into her mouth again, and again. All of a sudden she sat up, smacking her forehead into my chest, coughing up a storm. Lakewater spurted from her mouth. "I -- I --"

"Shh, it's all right," I said, and took her in my arms.

She began sobbing immediately. "I saw -- I saw my whole life --"

"Shhh," I said senselessly.

After a minute, she wrenched herself from my grasp. "We have to finish this," she cried. "We haven't got enough air to stay down here much longer, and I don't know if we could find it again. But how can we do it? That -- that THING will destroy any protective spells we put up."

"What if I hold the parchment on one side, and you read it from the other side?" I offered.

She shuddered. "I don't want to get anywhere near that thing ever again. But what choice do we have?"

"None," I said softly.

She nodded and handed me the parchment. "D'you think I can separate and make my own bubble from this?"

"Try it," I said, and she did. When she was a few feet away from me, my bubble warped and separated, but I noticed it was much closer to my body. We were both operating on just my share of oxygen.

Hermione swam over to the far side of the lorgnette, and I swam to the closer one. Of course we'd chosen the wrong orientation; the letters were made tinier, not bigger. We switched around, and this time Hermione gave me the thumbs-up.

I saw her lips moving, but I couldn't hear her speaking. I did notice the sapphires sparkling more, though, and the glass glinting in a hundred directions. Something was taking notice of this little exercise.

She read each rune carefully but quickly; the whole thing was over in a minute. When she'd said the last one, she looked up at me expectantly.

And the lorgnette exploded, sending fragments into the lakewater for yards around, including into our bubbles, which both promptly burst.

I had almost been ready for this, and I took a lungful of air and grasped Hermione's wrist. With my last fully conscious thought, I gave an almighty tug on both our cords and began kicking towards the surface. Then everything went black.


	19. What Comes After

_Author's Note: To whomever added me to two c2s, thank you! And my enduring appreciation for the small bunch of you who consistently review -- it does an author's heart good._

_For those curious as to how Ron learned to use the "felly tone," crazy-emerald-blue wrote her version of the story; it's up at her profile._

_And finally, once again, decompression sickness is a real illness, and my thanks to Wikipedia for clueing me into the physics of it. (Of course, it's a Muggle encyclopedia, so they don't know about the potions wizards and witches have to treat it . . . .)_

I awoke, as many Hogwarts students before me, in the Hospital Wing. My first vision was my mother's concerned face.

"Mum?" I croaked. Then I remembered when I was, and I cringed. Had I blown it?

But Ginny looked unruffled by this gaffe, just relieved that I was awake. "No, Susan, it's Ginny. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Hermione?"

"She's okay," Ginny said. "I think she's okay. She hasn't come round yet."

I struggled to sit up but found I couldn't. "Shh, drink this," Ginny said, offering me a blueish potion.

I took a sip and found I felt a little better. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

I thought back, though it was difficult. "I remember . . . Hermione's bubble exploding. Giving her mouth-to-mouth. Destroying the lorgnette. And then --"

"So you did destroy it?" Ginny asked, her eyes alight with happiness.

"Yes!" I said. "I'm sure there's a piece of it somewhere in my robes."

"Oh, thank heavens. The boys hoped -- but they weren't sure."

"However did they get us to the surface in time?" I wondered.

"A VERY strong Tractus charm," Ginny said. "Probably too strong. That's why you're ill -- it's decompression sickness. If they hadn't gotten you to Madam Pomfrey so quickly, you two might've been paralyzed."

I shivered. "How did they get us back?"

"Harry Side-Alonged you both in turn," she explained, "right up to the gates of Hogwarts. Then he sent his Patronus to wake Madam Pomfrey. I don't think he cared how much trouble he got into."

"Is he in trouble?" I asked anxiously.

Ginny shrugged. "No one's in much of a mood to punish him. McGonagall's got a faint idea of what he's doing, and she prefers to turn a blind eye to the rulebreaking it entails."

I nodded, then found I couldn't do much else. Before long I'd slipped back into sleep.

When I awoke next, it was Neville's figure I saw. He must've been there for a while, because he wasn't watching me, just sitting doing his Charms homework.

"Hi," I croaked.

Immediately he sat up, knocking his books and parchment to the floor. "Susan!" He leaned forward and took my hands, which -- I hadn't noticed before -- were icy cold. In his grasp, they warmed quickly.

"How're you?" I slurred.

"How am I?? Let's start with you."

"'M okay," I lied. "Jus' a little wuzzy."

"You sound like you've been through the wringer," he chided, and gave me the selfsame blueish potion Ginny had pressed on me before. "Drink this; Madam Pomfrey says it'll help pop the bubbles in your blood."

"Bubbles?" I asked incredulously. I felt dizzy, and was in no mood to be toyed with.

"I don't really understand it either. Just drink."

I did, and again, I felt a bit better afterwards, good enough to sit up in bed, though it was rather painful. "Why are you here?" I asked, trying not to sound hurt or suspicious.

Neville frowned deeply. "I'm here because I'm your boyfriend."

I flinched at this, and he saw. "But you -- at dinner --"

"I know. But just because I'm angry with you doesn't mean we've gone south," he said, a little desperately.

"Why're you angry?" I said.

He peered at me. "Do you not remember, or not understand?"

I thought back to our conversation in the greenhouse. "Understand. Not understand, rather."

He sighed. "Susan, are you sure you want to do this while --"

"Go 'head."

"Fine, okay. I'm angry because I put my cards on the table, wore my heart on my sleeve, whatever, and you seemed . . . distant."

At that moment, surprising both Neville and myself, I burst into tears. Neville crouched low over me and dried my cheeks off with his thumb. "No, no, I knew this was a piss poor idea. It can wait till you're better."

"No," I moaned. "It's not that, not at all. You -- don't -- understand."

"Understand what?" he asked anxiously.

"I want to be with you, I do. But I can't not go back home."

"I know, I know," he crooned. "I'm sorry I was shirty about that bit. I'm more concerned about what happens after you graduate."

"I want to be with you," I said again, half-drunk off his scent and my incapacitation.

Now he smiled. "Will you come with me after you graduate, then?"

Perhaps if I'd been healthy and in my right mind, I would've told him right then and there that there was no way we could be together. But I was neither of those things, so I said, "I'll go anywhere you go."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them, but it was too late: Neville had already leaned down to kiss me gently. Then he told me to get some rest, and I dutifully closed my eyes and listened to the scratching of his quill against parchment. Something, probably that blue potion, quelled my roiling mind, and I was asleep in a minute.

The third and final time I awoke in the Hospital Wing, it was Ron who greeted me. He was watching me intently, and upon my regaining of consciousness, he smiled in abject relief. "You've come round!"

"Yes, again," I added. "How's Hermione?"

"Much better," he said. "Her theory is that in reading Whossisname's Creed she actually invoked some sort of protection that kept her from the worst of the decompression sickness. I've no idea if she's right, but it sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," I said, smiling. It was often impossible not to smile when Ron was in a good mood. "So she's back in action?"

"Yeah," he said, "and I have to say, she would've been miffed to miss class today."

"Class!" I cried. "Is it Monday already?"

"'Fraid so," said Ron. "I'd hoped, as a family member, you could be counted upon to rejoice at that fact."

"No!" I said. "I had a Transfiguration quiz today!"

He laughed. "You just destroyed a piece of You Know Who's soul, and that's what you're worried about?"

I relaxed a bit. "All right, well, when you put it like that . . . ."

"Hermione told me all about it," he said, his voice a bit hushed now. "That was brilliant, how you saved her."

I shrugged. "She'd have done the same for me."

"If she hadn't lost her fool head," Ron retorted, grinning broadly now. "Hermione, well, she's the cleverest witch in all of Britain, but she panicks too easily."

I chuckled at this, and noted that my lungs weren't burning. "I feel better," I said, a little proud of my recovery.

"Great, we'll spring you as soon as we can. In the meantime, I brought you some real food," he said, producing a chicken salad sandwich and some crisps.

"Cheers, Ron," I said gratefully, and tucked in, not having had a real meal in days. "You're a lifesaver."

He colored at that a little, then patted me on the hand in a brotherly way. "So're you," he said gruffly, then left me to finish my sandwich alone with my thoughts.

As Ron had promised, I was released from the Hospital Wing that evening with a few more doses of my anti-decompression sickness potion. Madam Pomfrey did one final diagnostic spell on me, then shook her head as she proclaimed me fit to go back to classes. "What you lot get up to, I just don't know," she said, but I thought I detected a hint of approval in her stern voice.

It was late when I finally got back to the common room, but to my surprise, Neville was waiting there for me. I hesitated when I saw him, but he motioned for me to come over and sit by him.

"All right?" he asked by way of greeting.

I nodded. "I still feel a bit queer, but Madam Pomfrey says my symptoms should be gone by tomorrow night."

"That's good," he said, and took my hand. I relaxed for the first time in a week and settled my head on his shoulder. "I missed you," he continued after a long quiet moment.

"I missed you too."

"Let's not fight again, yeah?"

"That sounds perfectly lovely."

There was another long silence, and then he spoke again. "I'm sorry I came to you in the Hospital Wing like that. I should've just let you be."

I shook my head. "It's all right."

"No, it wasn't right. I was just so -- I mean, I overheard Harry and Ron talking about you and Hermione, and I -- I panicked. I was convinced you'd -- you'd die or something, and you'd never know --"

He stopped, forcing me to ask, "Know what?"

He flushed and turned his head away. I touched his cheek gently. "Know what?" I repeated.

He turned back, and his eyes were bright. "That even if you wanted to go back to America and stay there, even if I'd never see you again, I still couldn't -- I want the rest of this year with you, Susan, no matter what comes after."

I kissed him instead of answering him. If I'd spoken, I would've told him everything, and the truth was, I wanted to believe that I had a choice in this matter. I wanted to pretend that I was just going to America for a year before joining him in Ireland or wherever he chose to go. I wanted to forget that my life lay a dozen and a half years away, in some distant future that would not include him.


	20. The Darkening of the Light

_Author's Note: So many reviews yesterday!! You all deserve the next chapter right now._

_The I Ching is used extensively in this chapter. It is a real Eastern fortunetelling technique, and the hexagrams I cite are presented here as faithfully as possible (I have edited them somewhat for length). I am indebted to the website for the translations from the Chinese._

As Madam Pomfrey promised, I was feeling much better the next day, and I caught up on my homework and such quite quickly. I took my Transfiguration quiz on Friday during a free period, and Professor McGonagall did not chide me for my absence on Monday, but merely said, "I suppose you've been saving all of Christendom with your parents?"

I allowed myself a small smile. "Something like that, ma'am."

"Splendid," she said. "Now have a seat and do your House proud on this quiz."

I did well on the quiz, I knew, since I'd been assiduously keeping up in all of my N.E.W.T. classes. If nothing else, I wanted to glean ideas of how I could save my father at year's end.

January eased into February, and before long Valentine's Day was upon us. Harry hadn't approached me about the final Horcrux because, I assumed, he felt terrible about how injured I'd gotten during the last mission. He finally broke his silence a few days before the Hogsmeade Valentine's Day weekend.

He found me coming back from the Divination tower that Thursday afternoon, and buttonholed me as I walked back to the common room. "You must know what I want," he said.

"Indeed," I sighed. "You're going to have to wait a while, though."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Well, the last Horcrux . . . it's a situation similar to the one with the locket," I said. "There are only two days a year you can find the last Horcrux."

"Two days a year? Which ones?"

"The equinoxes."

"So the next is . . . late March?"

I nodded. "You'll have to get it then."

"What is it?"

"It's Godric Gryffindor's armband. His ancestors had been tribal chieftains in the days before the old monarchs. The armband was the mark of his status. Right around the time he died, William the Conqueror laid waste to the northern half of England, so Godric's children fled to the south. The armband made their heritage clear, which made it too dangerous to own, so they hid it using an elaborate wizarding ritual. No Muggle would ever be able to find it."

Harry looked dazed by the surplus of information. "Well then, where is it?"

"We're going to have to go to the stone circle at Avebury at the equinox and perform the ancient ritual," I said. "There's no other way to get at it."

"Is it Dark magic?" he asked worriedly.

"No," I replied, "just ancient. Not the sort of magic we're used to anymore. But not Dark."

"When can we start tackling it?"

I sighed again. "After this weekend, all right? I just want . . . I just want a normal Valentine's Day Hogsmeade trip, without any worries. Is that okay?" I considered telling him that my chief worry at the moment was, in fact, that very Hogsmeade trip, but decided against it. I didn't think the forecast would do him any good.

He looked at me for a long moment. Finally he said, "You've got a date for this weekend."

It wasn't a question. "Yes."

"Neville."

Another non-question. "Yes . . . ."

"He's the right sort, Neville," Harry said, obviously trying very hard to seem nonchalant. "Good on you."

Something swelled in my chest. As weird and backward as this all was, my father approved of my boyfriend. "Cheers, Harry."

He left then, and I was left to struggle with my knowledge that this Hogsmeade weekend would not be fun or relaxing -- it would be horrific. Regardless, I couldn't handle the thought of beginning to study the Avebury ritual, not while I was holding my breath for the weekend.

That Friday, we were back in pairs in Divination again, and I was back with Luna Lovegood, to my dismay. It wasn't that I disliked Luna -- quite the contrary -- but her fate sat at the back of my mind like an itch I couldn't scratch.

The topic was the I Ching, a method that Chinese wizards and witches used in Divination. Trelawney claimed to have visited the country and learned her stalk-casting technique from a Chinese master. While I highly doubted the veracity of her claim, I didn't suppose it much mattered: our class was using the more modern and popular method, the casting of coins. Besides, no matter what method I used, I wouldn't be able to make the I Ching tell me anything.

We sat down on the floor of Trelawney's classroom, Luna holding three Knuts in her hand and balancing the giant interpretive text on her lap. "Luna?" I said, and she peered up at me through her huge glasses.

"Yes?"

"Would you . . . would you cast the coins for me?" I asked sheepishly.

She kept staring at me. "Why?"

I held her gaze and tried not to betray my anxiety. "I'd like to know something about the future, and you're much better at Divination than I."

"You think so?" she asked, seemingly pleased. "I don't work very hard in this class; it's nothing like Charms or Transfiguration."

"I know," I said. "I don't think you work that hard, necessarily; I just think you have a talent."

"That's nice of you to say," she said dreamily. "Well, if you'd like, I'll cast the coins with you in mind. Here goes nothing . . . ."

And she began casting the coins and making notes in her notebook, which sat on the floor on her right side. Each time she shook the coins firmly, cast them in a wide, beautiful arc, looked for a moment, made a note in her notebook, and gathered up the coins with one sweep. She did it six times, and when she was finished, she made a couple more notes.

"Hexagram Nine," she said finally, and paged back in the book on her lap. After a moment, she spoke. "It's called 'The Taming Power of the Small.'

"'The wind drives across heaven: thus the superior man refines the outward aspect of his nature.' That's the image."

I shook my head. I couldn't make any sense of it.

"Do you want to hear the line interpretations?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, though I didn't believe they would be any help.

Luna cleared her throat. "'One: Return to the way. There is no blame in this.

"'Two: He allows himself to be drawn into returning.

"'Three: The spokes burst out of the wagon wheels.

"'Four: If you are sincere, blood vanishes and fear gives way. No blame.

"'Five: If you are sincere and loyally attached, you are rich in your neighbor.

"'Six: The rain comes, there is rest. This is due to the lasting effect of character. Perseverance brings the woman into danger. The moon is nearly full. If the superior man persists, misfortune comes.'"

I gaped at her. In my mind, the message of the I Ching couldn't have been clearer: I had to tell everyone who I was and where I came from. Even Neville. Especially Neville. And furthermore, I had to go back to my own time, whether or not I could save Dad. "'Return to the way. There is no blame in this,'" I murmured to myself.

"Do you think it means you have to go back to America?" Luna piped up.

"Oh, yes, I rather do," I said distractedly. "'If you are sincere . . . .'"

"Shall you cast for me now?" Luna asked.

"Oh no, Luna, I'll make a terrible mess of it all. You do it; I'd like to watch again."

And so she went through the whole ritual again of casting and collecting. It was mesmerizing in its rhythmical nature. I could've watched her cast for everyone in the class twice over.

At the end, she did her calculations. "Hexagram Thirty-Six," she said, and flipped forward in the book. "'The Darkening of the Light. The light has sunk into the earth: thus does the superior man live with the great mass: he veils his light, yet still shines.'"

I thought to myself that that wasn't a bad assessment of Luna. She did her best to hide behind her specs and long hair, but she had her moments of luminous understanding that were impossible to hide. "Go on, Luna, what do the lines say?"

"'One: Darkening of the light during flight. He lowers his wings.

"'Two: Darkening of the light injures him in the left thigh. He gives aid with the strength of a horse.

"'Three: Darkening of the light during the hunt in the south. Their great leader is captured. One must not expect perseverance too soon.

"'Four: He penetrates the left side of the belly. One gets at the very heart of the darkening of the light.

"'Five: Darkening of the light. Perseverance furthers.

"'Six: Not light but darkness. First he climbed up to heaven, then plunged into the depths of the earth.'"

I looked at her, shocked. "What did you ask it about??" I whispered.

"The final battle between Harry and Voldemort," she said casually.

"Luna, you're amazing!" I cried. "That was the clearest reading of the I Ching I've ever heard!"

"You think so?" she said, sounding a bit perplexed. "I can't tell from that who ends up winning. Who's climbing to heaven and plunging into the earth, Voldemort or Harry?"

I shuddered a little. "I can't tell either."

"Well, it sounds like a proper battle, anyway," she said. When I stared at her, she explained, "I hate the thought of Harry being killed by some lackey, or in his sleep or something."

I winced. "As do I."

"That's all right then," she said cheerfully.

By that time, class was all but over, and we watched Trelawney frowning at her casted yarrow stalks for the remainder of the class period. We giggled when she surreptitiously moved a stalk from one pile to another to change her result. She frowned now at her I Ching book, and then, when she realized class was over, slammed it shut, still scowling.

Back in my dorm before supper, I turned the words of the I Ching over and over in my mind. In the moments when the meaning had become clear to me, my certainty that telling Neville was the right thing to do had been clear and shining. Away from the Divination Tower, though, things got murkier.

The plain fact was, I knew that in telling him, I stood a good chance of losing him, and that thought was unbearable. But he would find out eventually, and the longer I went without telling him, the more painful it would be for us both in the end.

Then I thought about what the weekend would hold, and my resolve dissolved again. How could I heap this truth upon the events that were coming so soon?

When I slept, I dreamt of shadows on winged horses, and moons that burned brighter than suns.


	21. Darkness in Hogsmeade

_Author's Note: Imagine my delight when I realized that in 1998, Valentine's Day fell on a Saturday. So here's a Valentine's Day trip to Hogsmeade, although . . . well, you'll see. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, especially the new readers!!_

We made a sickeningly romantic bunch, the six of us, as we headed for Hogsmeade that Saturday, the 14th of February. Ron and Hermione took the lead, with Hermione pointing out the new things in shop windows as we walked down the High Street. Neville and I walked in the middle, a little uncomfortable in our new role as a public couple, but still enjoying each other's company and the company of our friends. Harry and Ginny trailed behind us, speaking too low for anyone to hear most of the way.

We stopped at the Three Broomsticks; I hadn't been there since my first kiss, and I flushed a little at the memory. But no one else noticed, and we got a table to ourselves in the middle of the pub.

In Neville's presence, we couldn't very well discuss the Horcruxes, so instead they all took turns telling me stories about Umbridge, the D.A., and the other adventures they'd gotten themselves into over the years. At one point, Harry and Neville told me about a time that Neville had actually bested Hermione in a duel, which made Hermione go all sullen and narrow-eyed until Ron tickled her into submission.

I decided to have a little fun with my pseudo-Seer abilities and read people's palms. I started with Ron, since he was in a good mood and wouldn't take it all too seriously.

I held his hand gently and peered into the arching lines that graced his palm. "Hmm," I said. "I See . . . I See you attaining the only career you've ever really wanted. It's quite a dangerous one, too. What would that be?" I looked up at him and smiled to see him blushing. "Dragon wrangler? Vampire hunter?" He shook his head swiftly. "Well, you must know what it is. And I See . . . a wedding! Congratulations. I See you very, very happy. And the bride . . . ." At that, he snatched his palm away, and everyone else (except, naturally, Hermione) hooted with laughter.

"Do me," piped Ginny, and I looked at her for a long moment before taking her hand. Oh, Mum. I didn't want to tell her the future that was coming.

"I See a little girl," I said softly. "You love your daughter more than anything in the world." A hush went over the table, and everyone leaned in a bit. "I See the flat where you live. I See that things will be difficult, but never impossible."

The obvious question -- what will become of Harry? -- was left hanging in the air. I snatched Hermione's hand before she could object and began reading it instead to diffuse the tension a bit.

"Oh, this will come as no surprise to anyone," I said, as she struggled to free herself. "Youngest member ever appointed to the Committee on Experimental Charms."

Everyone laughed then. "Laugh it up, Ron," Ginny began, "but someone's got to support your --"

Screams exploded outside, and we all stood up suddenly, knocking over most of our chairs in our hurry. All fun and games were instantly forgotten.

"Expecto Patronum," Harry proclaimed, and the stag erupted immediately. "Prongs, go see," he told it, and it cantered out and came back again within half a minute. Placing a hand on its flank, Harry closed his eyes, then opened them again. "Death Eaters. Let's go. We can't fight them here; just concentrate on getting the students back to the castle."

Wands at the ready, we hussled out of the pub to a ghastly sight. Two people, neither of them Hogwarts students, lay dead or unconscious on the ground. Five Death Eaters in full regalia were terrorizing the populace.

A magically amplified voice -- Hagrid's, I realized -- boomed out. "STUDENTS, STAY IN THE SHOPS IF YE CAN. IF YER OUTSIDE, TRY TER GET IN!"

One of the Death Eaters laughed at this, and I nearly stomped the ground in fury. Neville put a calming hand on the small of my back, and I came back to my senses. This wasn't a game; people's lives were in danger.

"Try to head them off!" Harry cried, and he was off like a shot. We followed behind, breathless both from sprinting and from fear.

Ginny threw the first hex, which hit the closest Death Eater and knocked him off his feet. Another, whose voice I couldn't place, yelled, "Potter! So good of you to join us and save us the trouble of finding you."

"No you don't!" Ginny shrieked, and hexed that one too, though he only stumbled.

Soon the jinxes, hexes, and curses were flying between us. Our group relied heavily on strong Shield Charms, but they weren't always effective; Ron was quickly picked off by a hex that paralyzed him, and Hermione gently toppled him over to make him a less obvious target for our foes.

Before long, we were joined by several former members of the D.A.: Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, Dean Thomas, and Luna Lovegood. Even in the heat of the moment, I marveled at their bravery: they were not Harry's compatriots in the same way that the five of us were, and yet they came now.

A vague formation sorted itself out: Dean Thomas and Hermione, whose Shield Charms were the strongest, held a long, magical shield across a span of ground, while the rest of us crouched behind it and shot off hexes above the shield when we felt we had a good shot. Meanwhile, Harry, who had taken to carrying his Invisibility Cloak everywhere, had darted out unseen to grab the younger students and carry them off to the safety of the Three Broomsticks. Ginny looked after him with a horribly pained expression, but stopping Harry from saving innocents would've been like trying to dam the sea.

The Death Eaters were advancing, though, so I shouted out an incantation and filled the lessening gap between us with purple fire. No one could walk through that unscathed, and the enemy didn't even try.

I knew that as full-grown, fully qualified wizards, the Death Eaters had the edge on us in magical talent. However, I also knew that as a rule, they did not cooperate, nor did they trust each other -- that was where our strength lay.

I pulled Neville to me, and also Ernie Macmillan, who was the next closest person. "Let's pick them off," I hissed. "If we all Stupefy one of them at once, I think we'll have it."

They nodded briskly, and I chose the first target. "Stocky one halfway back. On my mark: ready, set" -- we all popped up for a moment -- "STUN!"

"STUPEFY!" we cried in unison, then dropped back behind the shield. It had worked; that Death Eater was blown over as if by a terrible wind.

We regrouped to try again, but all of a sudden we were blinded by a great light, and we heard Hermione scream, "The shield is down!!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean Thomas lying on the ground, badly burned but still breathing. Cursed light began to flash all around us, and I watched, as if in slow motion, as one green bolt zipped through the purple fire and struck Luna on the shoulder. She crumpled gracefully on the ground and was utterly still.

It was no shock to me, so when Ginny screamed in horror, I merely grabbed Neville and yelled, "Shield! Go!" He looked at me uncomprehendingly, but I cast my end of the spell, which seemed to shake him awake; he whispered, "_Protego_," and our shields stretched in front of our group once more.

Harry bounded back then, and the battle began to turn our way again. I couldn't fight while I was holding the shield up, and neither could Neville, which gave us plenty of opportunity to cast horrified glances at the bodies of Ron and Luna, which were eerily alike in their motionlessness.

From ten feet away, Neville caught my eye and mouthed, "I love you." My heart faltered, and I mouthed it back. How much more terrifying would this all be if I didn't know the ending? Would I also believe I had one last chance to tell of my love?

The Aurors finally showed up a minute or so later; the whole thing had probably only lasted about seven minutes, but it seemed like hours. The two Death Eaters still standing Apparated away quickly upon their arrival; the three prone ones were promptly arrested and spirited away. One Auror, whom I didn't recognize, came over to survey the scene. I let the shield drop and ran to Neville, who embraced me swiftly before taking my hand and leading me over to the others.

First she knelt by Luna's body and waved her wand. A soft green light emanated from Luna, and the Auror shook her head. "Just a child," she said bitterly. "Those monsters."

Then she did the same to Ron, but a faint silver light glowed around him, and she sucked in her breath. "A Freezing Charm," she said warily. "We've got to get him to St. Mungo's." Then she looked around at the rest of us. "Any of you kids injured?"

We looked around at each other slowly. We were all clustered together, clinging each other for support -- I had an arm around Dean Thomas, whom I didn't even really know -- and though we probably all needed medical attention, the thought of having to leave the battlefield and go on with our lives was more of less inconceivable.

Finally Susan Bones spoke up. "I -- I think my leg is broken," she said in a wobbly voice.

"I've got quite a burn on my arms," Dean put in, and I admired how offhand he managed to sound.

"Ginny's bleeding," Harry said, and his voice was hoarse. I swiveled around to see Mum, who was standing a ways behind me. She was even paler than usual; her eyelids fluttered, and blood seeped steadily from a wound in her chest.

"That's it, you're all going to hospital," the Auror said in a businesslike tone. She produced a Portkey from her robes, poked it once with her wand, and said, "All of you grab hold now." We did, while the Auror held Ron's hand in place, and within a moment, we were whisked away to London.

Apparently the Aurors had access to different areas than the general public, because we did not emerge in the reception area, but into a place I would have associated with a Muggle emergency room. A witch hurried straight up to us. "Auror MacDougal informed us of your arrival." She grabbed a passing wizard in a Healer's uniform, gestured to Ron, and said, "Freezing Charm." The wizard's eyes widened, but he grabbed Ron and took him away. Then the witch turned to the rest of us. "Can you please all stand in a line?"

We did, though some of us were supporting others. She took a swift look at us and grabbed Ginny straightaway. "Come on, darling," she said, and led Ginny over to another witch, this one in a Healer's uniform, who took one look at Ginny before whisking her off to another room.

A third Healer, this one a wizard, came by after a few moments. The first witch said, "None of them are critical."

The wizard eyed us. "Nothing to sneeze at, either. I'd like to look them over. Will you take the girls to Exam Room 3? I'll look over the boys first in Room 7."

The witch nodded briskly, and we followed her to a nearby room, Susan Bones hobbling all the way.

In the room, Hermione finally allowed herself to begin sobbing. I put an arm around her, but couldn't make out a word she was saying. Meanwhile, Susan sat staring blankly at the wall. Her leg was at an odd angle, and I tried very hard not to look at it.

We sat there for an amount of time I couldn't have measured to save my life. When our Healer came in, he introduced himself professionally: "I'm Healer Nettles. I'd like for this to be as quick and painless as possible. I understand that you ladies fought very bravely against Dark forces, and I commend you. I'd like to send you out in the same condition you were in before today happened. I'll need to do a routine examination on each of you; it shouldn't take long. Who's first?"

I volunteered, knowing that there was nothing wrong with me and thinking I could give Hermione some time to compose herself. I had to unbutton my blouse while the Healer listened to my heart, my breathing, and my stomach. He knocked on my joints a little to test my reflexes, then pronounced me perfectly healthy.

Then he approached Susan. "Well, I can see the big problem here," he said gravely, and knelt to look at her leg. "It's a clean break," he said in a satisfied tone, and Conjured up a splint, then began to heal the break. It was a complicated process, and fascinating to watch. He was done in about five minutes, and Susan looked relieved at the end of it. "I'm going to give you some potions to take back to school with you," the Healer told her, "and we're going to give you some exercises that you'll need to do every day until April. Now let me check the rest of you and make sure that there's nothing else the matter."

He gave Susan a once-over, same as he'd done to me, and she was fine in all other respects. Finally the Healer turned to Hermione, who by this point was hyperventilating, but no longer crying. His voice was gentle as he spoke to her. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this," he said. "I just want to make sure you're all right."

Hermione nodded miserably, and unbuttoned her shirt so he could begin the examination. He listened to her heart and frowned for the first time that I'd seen. "Your heartbeat is weak," he told her. "Do you feel all right?"

Hermione shook her head a little. "I feel dizzy."

"Can you cast a basic spell for me?" he asked her.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_," pointing her wand at Susan's physical therapy pamphlets. The top pamphlet fluttered a little, picked itself off the table for a moment, then fell back on the table, apparently unable to move any further.

The Healer looked seriously alarmed. "Hermione, you've been hit with a Strength-Sapping Curse. I need to start treatment immediately. Do you understand me?"

She nodded a little and slumped down further in her chair. "I'm going to get the palliative potions," the Healer told me. "Keep her awake." He sprinted from the room.

Quickly, I knelt down beside her. "Hermione, stay awake," I said urgently.

My aunt looked at me through half-lidded eyes. "Don' wanna," she slurred.

"I don't care," I said firmly. "Think about -- think about elves. Er, house-elves."

She stared at me in disbelief. "House-elves?"

I began babbling in a desperate attempt to keep her engaged. "I'm sure You Know Who is keeping a whole -- a whole SQUADRON of them enslaved!"

She sat up a little at this. "D'you think?"

"I do!" I cried. In fact, I knew it was nonsense, but it was working. "He probably tortures them, too."

Now she was scowling. "This is what happens when an entire society is encouraged to think of the members of another species simply as servile idiots," she said with something bordering on passion. "When I enter the Ministry, I am going to enact some real change in there. For starters --"

Mercifully, she was cut short by the reappearance of our Healer, who was carrying a smoky, dark grey potion. "Drink this," he said, and helped her tip it into her mouth. "That should stop the curse getting any worse, but it won't reverse the effects. You'll need a certified Curse Breaker for that. We've got one on staff, and we've owled her -- she should be here within a half-hour. Meanwhile, I'm going to take you to a room to rest. Girls, you can follow me back into the waiting room."

We did, but several faces were missing there besides Hermione's: Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Neville were nowhere to be seen. Ernie was deep in conversation with Dean; Ernie looked as unharmed as I, and though Dean's hands and the lower halves of his arms were encased in huge bandages, he too looked mostly all right. Susan Bones went to sit beside Ernie, who smiled at her arrival. I approached the witch who had processed us upon our arrival. "Where are the others, please, ma'am?" I asked, my voice shaking.

She looked at me sympathetically. "Poor dear, don't worry your pretty head. Harry Potter is in with the redheaded girl. The boy who was frozen is in with our cardiac specialist; he has to be unfrozen very carefully, but when he is, he should be perfectly fine. The dark-haired boy asked to see his parents while he was here."

"Where are his parents, please?"

"Janus Thickey Ward, fourth floor," she said. "The stairs are down the corridor to the left."

I nodded my thanks and hurried to the stairs. At the fourth floor, I poked around for a bit before I found the long-term residential ward. I swallowed convulsively a few times before unlocking the door and slipping inside.


	22. Madness

_Author's Note: Goodness gracious me! Well, you've certainly kept up your end of the deal, so here's mine: the next chapter. Let me warn you now that it's in much the same emotional vein as the last one . . . ._

The first beds I laid eyes on were empty. Before I could look around properly, I heard Neville's voice: "I didn't want to ask you to come."

I swiveled round and spotted Neville and . . . his parents. They were, unmistakably, his parents. They were sitting in armchairs by the lone window in the ward, which was fitted with thin bars. Neville himself was sitting on the foot of a bed. No one else was in the room.

"I -- I'm sorry," I stammered, not moving any closer.

"No, Susan, I didn't want to ask you to come, but I wanted you to come."

Now I stepped forward until I was just a few feet from the three of them. "Oh," was all I could think to say.

Neville stood, took my hand, and led me over to the straggly, pale forms of his parents. "Mum, Dad, this is Susan Hopkins. We've been dating for a little more than three months."

I held out my hand to his mother, who looked at it uncomprehendingly. "Mum, shake her hand," Neville said gently. Upon this, she timidly put out her left hand, which I took and squeezed lightly. I went through the same process with his father. Neither of them said a word.

"Very pleased to meet you," I managed to get out, but they did not look at me; their eyes wandered, lighting on various features of the room, but not my face.

"They don't like new people," Neville explained. "It takes them a very long time to get to know and trust someone. They know that I come by a lot, and Gran as well; they're actually a bit attached to the three Healers who do shifts on this ward. Other than that, though, they're not really comfortable around other people."

"I'm so sorry," I began, but he shook his head.

"Don't start with all that. I'd rather you just got to know them a bit."

"Is the ward always this empty?" I ventured.

"No. Other people come and go, sometimes for years at a time. No one's got my parents' staying power, though." He chuckled a little, but it was not a happy sound.

I turned my attention to his parents, who were, after all, the reason we were both there. "How d'you do, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom?" I asked them. They looked up at me for a moment, but quickly turned away again. I decided to act as though they'd answered. "I'm quite well, considering the events of today, thank you for asking."

Neville smiled grimly. "Anyone else dead down there?"

I started a little at his harshness. "No. They think Ron will be all right with the proper care. Ginny and Dean are healing up, apparently. Our Healer fixed Susan's leg. Hermione's very ill, but they're having a Curse Breaker come to take care of her. Everyone else seems relatively unscathed."

He nodded. "We were lucky, you and I."

"You didn't get hit at all?"

"A couple cuts, a few bruises," he said, "nothing major. You?"

I shrugged. "Same here."

"Like I said, lucky." He paused. "I want to tell them about -- about HER." I thought for a moment, then realized who he meant.

"D'you think it's a good idea?"

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling; I was fairly sure he was fighting tears. "I don't know. But I want to."

"All right then." I reached over and took his hand. "Go ahead. I'm here."

Neville squeezed my hand, then dropped it and took one each of his parents'. "Mum? Dad?" They focused on his face, and I saw glimmers of recognition. "The woman who did this to you? Bellatrix Lestrange? She's dead. She was killed by a woman from your office. Bellatrix Lestrange is dead, and she'll never hurt you again."

I held my breath for a moment. I didn't know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, it didn't happen. His parents focused on his face for another moment, then let their eyes wander. Neville held on for another moment, but even he could not pretend for too long. He dropped their hands and stood up abruptly.

"Why don't you LISTEN to me?" he cried, and his parents, evidently frightened, cowered in their chairs. "She's DEAD, that stupid bitch is DEAD, you can stop HIDING from her now!!"

"Neville," I said quellingly, but he didn't -- or couldn't -- stop.

"Get up! Get up and TALK to me!" he shrieked, but they didn't. His mother began crying soundlessly, and his father put his fingers in his ears and rocked.

They were helpless and terrified. I couldn't let him do this to him, so I took him forcibly by the wrist and dragged him across the room. "Are you mad?" I hissed. "You're frightening them."

He seemed only half-conscious of what I'd said. "Susan," he said desperately, and my blood ran cold. Whatever he was about to say, it wasn't good. "Susan, you're a Seer. Tell me. Tell me if they'll ever be sane again."

The pause that came after his words was terrible. The world danced around me, and I found that I hadn't breathed in half a minute. I gasped for air, trying to think of a way out. Something. Anything.

Then Luna, poor dead Luna, spoke in my memory. "If you are sincere, blood vanishes and fear gives way," she'd said, and I'd made up my mind before I knew it.

"I'm not a Seer," I whispered, and sat heavily on the nearest bed. I couldn't look him in the eye.

"Don't be stupid," he said bluntly, and in my astonishment, I almost looked up. "Of course you are."

"Neville, I'm telling you, I'm not."

"That's bollocks!" he cried. "You are! LOOK at me!"

Finally I looked up at him. His cheeks were tearstained, and his eyes were red. I had never seen him even close to being this upset. "I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing it wouldn't help at all.

It dawned on him then that I was not lying. He took a step back and looked at me in a sort of horrified confusion. "Wh--what are you? WHO are you?"

"Please, Neville, come sit by me," I begged, but he shook his head spastically. "I want to tell you, I want to tell you everything, but I can't, not while you're looking at me like that."

"Just tell me," he said, and I knew I couldn't win this fight.

"All right. All right. But you musn't -- you have to listen to everything, all right?" He nodded a tiny bit, and I thanked the stars for that bit of acquiescence. "Neville, I traveled in time to get here. I'm not really a year younger than you. I haven't been born yet."

He stumbled back, and when I made to get up, he waved his hands at me to ward me off. "No, no, no no no no no."

I began to cry, of course. "I had to come back. I had to help defeat Voldemort. I'm meant to be here for this year."

"Who ARE you?" he raged. "Just TELL me!"

"I'm -- I'm Ginny and Harry's daughter."

The look of horror that crossed his face at that moment almost made me retch. "You're joking."

"No," I groaned, and my tears fell like rain.

"You -- you let me believe -- and you're really -- " His face was screwed up in pain. "You've not even been BORN YET."

"Why does it matter so much?" I cried.

"Why does it MATTER? You're -- you're some phantom from the future, and you're asking me why it MATTERS? I'm old enough to be your father! I feel like a pervy git!"

"But you didn't know!"

"You're damn right I didn't know! Because you LIED to me!"

"I had to lie, Neville, please, you have to understand that I had to lie," I begged him. "I've lied to everyone. It's what I had to do to keep myself safe."

Again, it was if he hadn't heard me. "And you're here for this year, and then -- ?"

"Then I have to go back to my own time."

"Oh, that's brilliant. Were you planning on mentioning that, or were you going to let me go on believing you were a normal witch I might actually have a future with?"

"I -- I wanted to tell you! But I couldn't tell you before I trusted you, and it was just fun at the beginning, and then -- things just snowballed, and I didn't expect us to get so serious!"

"Susan, we haven't exactly been passing notes in Herbology," he said scathingly. "We've been -- YOU know. I was going to stay in Hogsmeade for you!!"

He had turned pink during this tirade, and I could feel myself doing the same. We weren't sleeping together, but we'd certainly progressed past the point of stealing kisses by the lakeside. "I lied about who I was, Neville, but I never lied about anything else. I love you," I said, and my voice broke pathetically on the last sentence.

"What am I supposed to say to that? That I love you too? Everything I know about you is a lie! How can I love someone I don't even know??"

I was sobbing in earnest by this point. "Nothing's a lie," I moaned. "Nothing's a lie except this one little thing. Can't you forgive me this one little thing?"

"I introduced you to my PARENTS," he said, and his voice was full of horrified wonder. "To my GRAN."

"Nothing's different. Nothing's changed. I'm still your Susan."

"You're not my anything," he said, and his voice chilled me to the bone. "Leave. Please, leave us alone."

I quailed at this, and put both hands on the bed for support. "Neville --"

"Get out."

"Neville, you won't -- you won't TELL anyone, will you?"

He barked a laugh. "That wouldn't go over too well for me, now, would it? 'Pardon me, Harry, were you aware I've been all but having it off with your daughter? Just wanted to clue you up.'"

I nodded mutely, then said, "I can't leave without -- you know I love you, yeah?"

"DON'T," he said, and his voice scared me.

Some long-buried instinct surfaced in me then, and I stood quickly, dashed the tears from my eyes, turned to the Longbottoms, said, "So nice to have met you, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," turned back to the door, and exited without looking at Neville. If I'd cast so much as a glance at him, my composure would have crumbled. Right now, I had to keep my cover, and if that meant putting on a mask, then that was the way it had to be.

I visited the toilet on the second floor, performed an Anti-Puffing Charm on my eyelids, washed my face, and breathed steadily until my heart stopped thudding noisily in my chest. After a few minutes, I felt ready to face the music.

In the emergency room, I found Dean, Susan, Ernie, Harry, and Ginny all waiting for me. "You've been gone for ages!" exclaimed Ernie. "Wherever have you been?"

"Around," I said evasively. "How are Ron and Hermione?"

"They'll be Unfreezing Ron any minute now," Mum said, and though her voice was hoarse and weaker than usual, she was sitting up on her own, and her color was back to normal. "The Curse Breaker came round for Hermione, and she's just being observed now. They think she's fine."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. "Thank heavens."

"Where's Neville?" asked Harry in a low voice.

My heart jumped, and I put a hand to my chest involuntarily. "Visiting relatives on the fourth floor," I said, deliberately being vague. I knew most people didn't know about the Longbottoms' condition. But I saw Harry's head incline slightly, indicating his awareness. "Ginny, are you all right?"

She shrugged. "The cut was quite deep -- I'll probably have a scar. But they healed it up, and I took some potions to boost my blood supply. I've survived worse."

"And Dean? How are your hands?"

He smiled at my concern. "Nothing to worry about. I'll be drawing again in a week."

"We're lucky, then," I murmured.

"Except Luna," Harry said bitterly, and I shut my eyes. Of course. Luna.

"They said when you came back, they'd give us a Portkey back to Hogwarts," Susan Bones said. "Should we tell them you've returned?"

"No, they said Neville should come back with us," Dean pointed out. "D'you know how much longer he'll be?"

I struggled to remain calm. "I think he's probably lost track of time," I replied. "Let me go talk to someone who works here."

I ignored my parents' quizzical looks and walked over to the witch who'd processed us. "Ma'am, can I ask you a favor?"

She put a hand on my arm. "What's the matter, dearie?"

I wanted to collapse into her arms and tell her everything, but I just put my chin up a little higher. "We'd like to get back to school, but we can't go without Neville Longbottom. Can you send someone over to the Janus Thickey Ward to ask him to come down?"

"Of course, you poor thing. We'll get you back to school right away. Do you want to see Ms. Granger before you go?"

I nodded eagerly, and motioned at Harry and Ginny to come over. "She says we can see Hermione," I explained.

Their eyes lit up, and the witch ushered the three of us into a room with a whole host of empty beds with gray sliding curtains around them. Hermione was about halfway down on the left, and she waved merrily at us when we entered.

"I'm so glad to see you!" she cried. "My friends are here to see me!" she called to the attending Healer. We stared at her, and she continued. "Isn't this room lovely? D'you see these curtains? They SLIDE."

"Hermione, are you all right?" Ginny asked, putting a hand on her blanketed leg.

"I'm brilliant!" she cried. "The Curse Breaker came by and uncursed me, and then they gave me a whole bunch of potions!"

"Anything . . . else?" I asked, truly baffled by her behavior.

"Oh, I wouldn't stop crying at the beginning, and it was hurting the Curse Breaker's concentration, so they cast a Cheering Charm on me. Wasn't that awfully clever of them?"

As terrible as I felt, I had to stifle the urge to giggle. "Well, Hermione, we have to go back to school, but we're glad you're feeling better," I said firmly. "They said you'll be fit to come back tomorrow, and we'll see you then." I patted her on the knee; Ginny squeezed her hand; Harry, surprisingly enough, kissed her on the cheek. Then we turned to leave.

"Oh, all right! Have a good trip back!" she called after us.

In the lobby, we waited another few minutes, and then Neville joined the group. Unlike me, he'd not had a chance to clean himself up, and his face was red and wet from crying. Though Susan, Dean, and Ernie looked puzzled, Harry and Ginny had looks of sympathy on their faces. Of course they'd attribute his tears to seeing his parents. It was an unexpected blessing in disguise, and I was thankful for it, regardless of how tiny it felt against the weight of Neville's implacable anger.

Someone scrounged up a Portkey to Hogwarts that would take us to the front gates (as traveling by Portkey to the castle's interior was strictly forbidden). The seven of us -- Neville standing as far as he could from me -- grasped the Portkey, and I felt the tug behind my belly button that meant I'd soon be back at school. It was only then I recalled that it was still Valentine's Day.


	23. Playing the Parts

_Author's Note: This chapter marks a milestone for me, as it pushes this story over 50,000 words. I don't think I've ever written anything so long! The final product will weigh in at a little less than 72,000, to give you an idea of how much longer we've got to go. To new readers: welcome! To old readers: thanks for sticking with the story!_

Hermione returned to Hogwarts the next day as promised. Ron came too; his Unfreezing had been eminently successful, and while he had to take two months' worth of potions to keep his body from Refreezing, he seemed healthy enough.

The day after they returned, we held a memorial service for Luna Lovegood. The Great Hall was decked out in Ravenclaw colors, and Professor Flitwick led us in memorializing her. Her father had traveled to the school to talk with some of her friends, of which there weren't many. Luna had not been popular or well-liked, but I knew she would be missed. She had shone, whether or not other people had admitted it, and the lack of her light would be noticeable.

Everyone was quieter for a week or so after the Valentine's Day incident, and my life was nearly unbearable. In the depths of grief, everyone had glommed onto the one person who understood them better than anyone, which meant my friends spent nearly all their time with their significant others. Meanwhile, Neville and I were going out of our ways on a daily basis to avoid each other. I was starved for human contact, so I actually approached Harry before he did me on the subject of the Avebury ritual.

"It's very complicated," I explained to him. "If we don't begin studying now, I'm afraid we won't be ready by Solstice."

"You're right, of course we have to begin," he said, his voice worried. "I'll talk to Ron and Hermione."

Soon we had another covert meeting to discuss the ritual. Hermione had apparently been charged by Harry to find sources of information, and she'd come through in spades.

"It's very complex and very old," she said, opening a book on the table to reveal a diagram of the stone circle at Avebury. "It takes six people to do properly."

"Six!" exclaimed Ron.

"Yes," Hermione continued bossily. "One High Sorcerer or Sorceress, one Recipient -- Harry, that's you, naturally -- and four people to represent the four elements."

"Elemental magic," Ginny murmured. "That IS old."

"Recipient?" Harry queried.

"We're asking the stones to give up protecting something they've been hiding for a millennium," she explained. "They need to bestow it upon someone; they won't just cough it up and let it fall on the ground or something."

"Wait a tick, how exactly did Voldemort turn it into a Horcrux in the first place?" asked Ron incredulously.

Hermione shook her head. "That I don't know."

"I do," I said softly. "He brought his victim to Avebury. The armband appears briefly at sunrise of the solstice without having to do the ritual, and He Who Must Not Be Named used that window to kill the victim and turn it into a Horcrux. It disappeared a moment later, and You Know Who knew that it was well-protected."

"Can't we use that time to destroy it?" asked Harry.

"No," I said. "It can't be touched in that time. And we need to touch it."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

I looked at her wearily. "The locket wanted to be opened. The cup wanted to be filled. The lorgnette wanted to be looked through."

"The armband wants to be worn," Hermione breathed. "Oh, no."

"Why? Why is that bad?" asked Ginny anxiously.

"It's very powerful," Hermione said carefully. "It was the mark of a chieftain, who was typically a very powerful wizard. Pieces like that are said to be . . . temperamental."

"Will it hurt Harry?" Ginny demanded.

"It's not impossible," Hermione hedged.

"Then he can't do it," Ginny said.

"Yes I can," Harry said softly. "Dumbledore told me once, when I pulled the sword from the Sorting Hat, that I was a true Gryffindor. If I can't do it, no one can."

Silence descended. Hermione broke in tentatively. "I was thinking I would be the High Sorceress, as that part's got the most lines, and my memory's quite good."

Ron chuckled at this and put an arm around her shoulder. "Go for it, love."

"You all have to take the elemental parts," Hermione continued, her voice a little stronger. "Ginny, I think you should be fire."

Ginny finally smiled at this. "Yeah, probably."

"Ron, you'll be earth," she said.

"I'm a redhead too!" he cried.

"Yes, but you're the reassuring one," she said awkwardly. He flushed at this and didn't object again. "Susan, from what I've read, Seers are generally associated with air. Is that all right?"

"Sure," I said. It didn't much matter, anyway. At least, I didn't think it did.

"We need one more person," Hermione continued, "and I think Neville would be the best to ask."

My head snapped up. Oh, no. Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi hadn't told me much about the Avebury ritual, saying that I would learn what I needed to know as I went along. They'd only told me the history behind it, not what would happen on the solstice. I was beginning to suspect that they'd deliberately left out the bit about Neville, and I wondered just how much my mother had known about my relationship with him.

"It's not so much that he's a perfect fit for water, but we need someone we can trust, and Neville's the one person who certainly wouldn't give us up," Hermione finished, and looked around. "Anyone object?"

"Not at all," Harry said. "Susan, can you fill him in?"

"Sure," I said, a little breathlessly. "I'll get right on that."

"Good," beamed Hermione. "Now, I've copied out the script, and I've highlighted your part on each of your copies. If we start studying it now, we should have it down by the solstice." She distributed the documents, and I began to wonder what I'd gotten us all into.

"If we do this incorrectly, what will happen?" Ginny asked quietly.

Hermione frowned. "Probably nothing."

"'Probably'?"

"It's not without its risks," Hermione sighed, "but we haven't got a choice."

There was another moment of silence, then Harry spoke up. "Thank you. Thank you, all of you, for seeing me through all this. I don't know why you -- I can't -- just -- thank you. That's all."

"Happy to oblige, mate," Ron said, and we all murmured our agreements.

We broke a few minutes later, and though it pained me to do so, I began looking for Neville. He wasn't in our common room, nor was he getting a late lunch in the Great Hall. I finally found him in Greenhouse Three, where he was repotting Fanged Geraniums for Professor Sprout.

"Hi," I said, and he nearly dropped the pot he was working on.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

"I came to ask your help," I said steadily. I had promised myself I wouldn't cry.

"Oh, that's rich."

"Please hear me out."

"Abso-- OUCH!" He drew his right hand to his chest and clasped his left around it. The Fanged Geranium nearest him settled smugly back into its pot.

"Did it bite you?" I asked anxiously.

"Of course it bit me," he said sullenly.

I approached him. "Let me see."

"No."

"Neville, let me SEE." He narrowed his eyes, but extended his right hand to me. The bite was bleeding, but it wasn't swollen. He'd be fine with a bandage. I Conjured one up, along with some adhesive, and dressed the wound carefully. I made sure to concentrate on the cut and not meet his eyes while I was working.

"There," I said when I was finished, and he snatched his hand back.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"You're welcome. Now will you listen to me?" He nodded. "Harry needs your help. In about a month, we have to sneak out of school, travel to the south of England, perform an ancient ritual, and destroy a precious relic of Godric Gryffindor. And we need one more person for the ritual."

"What??"

"It's the only way to defeat You Know Who," I said rather desperately.

"And you know this because you learned it in the future."

I sighed. "Yes, not that that's the point here."

"Oh, I beg your pardon. And you're asking me to do what, exactly?"

"It's sort of like a play. Except that we're invoking the four elements and waking the stones of Avebury."

Now his eyes widened. "The elements?? That's -- that's pre-Hogwarts magic."

"Yes."

"And you want me to --"

"-- be water. I'm air, Ginny's fire, and Ron's earth."

He stared at me in disbelief. "You think this is a game? You think you can just go waltzing over to some site protected by ancient magic and read some lines and not get hurt?"

"That's what we're hoping," I said, a little testily. I didn't need Neville introducing doubt into this equation.

"And you need me."

I fixed him with a look. "In more than one way. Yes."

"No, don't start with that. I'll help Harry. I'll do whatever it takes to defeat Voldemort. Tell me when and where, and I'll be there. But I'm not doing this for you."

Tears filled my eyes; I couldn't help it. "Good, because it's not about US, you stroppy, miserable git! I don't know why you're so determined to stay angry, but I hope you enjoy spending time with the nasty Fanged Geraniums, because I am LEAVING! I'll have Hermione give you your script, and you'd better study up, because I will be buggered if this whole thing fails because you're too angry with me to do it properly!" While my words were still ringing in the air, I turned on my heel and stomped out of the greenhouse.

Outside in the February cold, I cried in equal parts anger and sadness. There was a fine layer of snow on the ground, and I made some dirty snowballs and hurled them into the Lake. They landed with a satisfying splash.

Why couldn't he forgive me? I hadn't lied to hurt him; I'd lied to protect myself. Surely he had to understand that.

I had an inkling that he wasn't actually as angry with me as he was letting on, but I pushed that thought away. It smacked of false hope, and I hadn't the time for that.

Back at the castle, I found Hermione in the library. "He'll do it," I told her, and she looked relieved. "Can you give him the script?" I continued. "I -- " Words failed me, and I looked at her helplessly.

She seemed terribly curious, but thankfully, she had enough tact not to delve into my reluctance. "Of course."

For the next few weeks, I rehearsed my part until I knew it backward and forward. Hermione had cautioned against rehearsals, saying that there was no telling what would happen if we all said our parts in turn. "It's not impossible that the castle would respond in some way," she mused. "We're better off waiting for the actual event."

February melted into March, and March swept over me like a tide. As the time for the ritual drew nearer, I felt myself growing more and more agitated. This was the last Horcrux, the last hurdle to clear before defeating Voldemort, and I still hadn't told my family who I was; nor had I come up with the means to save my father. I'd either be returning to my own time or dying in less than two months, but I hadn't even come close to achieving all my goals. And -- I couldn't help but think this last part -- I wanted to make things right with Neville before I left him forever. I was running out of time, and all I could do was practice my part.


	24. The Avebury Ritual, Part One

_Author's Note: I am lucky enough to have seen the stone circle at Avebury with my own eyes -- and, like Susan, I took the opportunity to climb around like a monkey. I very much recommend a visit if you can make it to England. It's much more interesting (and less crowded!) than Stonehenge._

_For those of you keeping score at home, yes, 1998 did see the spring solstice on Friday the 20th of March, and the sun did rise at 5:38 a.m. in Avebury that day. My thanks to the U.S. Navy's website for the sunrise data._

This year, the spring solstice was on March 20th, which was a Friday. However, Hermione had recommended that we perform the ritual as the sun rose, which meant we'd probably be missing our Friday classes. No one seemed to mind this much except Hermione, who was miffed that she'd have to miss Charms. "We're going over Fidelius!" she cried to anyone who would listen.

We all went straight to bed after dinner on Thursday so we could get a little sleep before the ritual. I dreamt, as I was wont to do when I was nervous about something.

_In my dream, I am comforting my mother, who is crying. She tries not to cry when I'm home, but I guess she couldn't help it this time. It is January: I have just had my eighth birthday the previous day._

_"Mummy, it's all right," I tell her, smoothing her hair with my little hands._

_"I'm so sorry, Susan," she says. "I'm fine, really I am."_

_"You're not fine, you're crying," I say. "Can I make you some tea?"_

_She smiles a little through her tears. "That would be lovely. If you bring me the kettle, I'll put the Warming Charm on."_

_"I can do it if you give me your wand," I say slyly, but Mummy isn't biting._

_"You know you're not permitted to do magic yet. Once you get to Hogwarts, you'll learn how to do it all properly." Reluctantly, I hand over the half-full kettle, and she pokes it with her wand. Immediately it starts to warm up, and I take it back from her to rest on the kitchen counter._

_"Why were you crying?" I ask. Now that she seems a little better, I think it's okay to ask her._

_Mummy wipes a few tears from her cheeks. "It's your father," she says shortly._

_"Because you love him, and he's not here?"_

_She nods. "It's very difficult for a mummy when the daddy is missing."_

_"Do you know where he is?"_

_She Conjures up a hankie and wipes her nose, then laughs shakily. "It's funny -- I was crying because I thought I did, for a moment."_

_"Where?" I ask eagerly._

_She waves the hankie as if to brush away the thought. "Oh, I -- when I awoke this morning, I thought he was in bed with me. But when I sat up, he was gone."_

_"Yeah, I thought I saw him tuck me in last night," I say nonchalantly._

_Mummy peers at me quizzically. "You . . . saw him?"_

_"I was mostly asleep," I say apologetically. "But something glinted, and I thought I saw the moon reflected on a pair of specs. When I opened my eyes a little more, I thought I saw him, but then he was gone."_

_The kettle whistles, and I jump up to put the teabags (peppermint for me, Earl Grey for Mummy) into our mugs and pour the hot water over them. I give Mummy her mug, and she dips the teabag into the water about a dozen times while staring at the wall. I have the feeling that she's not really paying attention, so I get the milk from the cupboard with the Cooling Charm on it and offer it to her without saying anything. She snaps back to reality then and takes the milk from me. "Thank you, darling. This was just what I needed."_

_"You're welcome." I sip my tea quietly and try to recall exactly what the figure by my bed had looked like. All I can remember is the shock of black hair and the shining spectacles._

My Waking Charm woke me up at four. I groaned quietly and looked over at Ginny, who was slowly peeling herself out of bed. How different this young version of my mother was from my dream version.

I got dressed quickly and silently. The six of us convened in the common room at a quarter after four, most of us yawning and rubbing our eyes. "This is daft," Ron grumbled.

"Does everyone have their scripts in case they forget a line?" Hermione piped up. We all waved our sheafs of parchment in the air halfheartedly. "Brilliant, let's get a move on."

Harry led the way with the Marauder's Map, and we snuck out of the castle and through the front gates. When we were off the grounds, Harry took Ginny's arm, and motioned to Hermione to take mine.

"I've got the coordinates here," Hermione said breathlessly. "Ron, Neville, you two Apparate on your own. Harry will Side-Along Ginny, and I'll take Susan." She must've seen the look on my face even in the dark, because she added, "I've been practicing, Susan, don't worry."

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed we wouldn't Splinch. After a moment, I felt a horrible wringing sensation, and I almost cried out. But then --

-- we were at Avebury. I looked around at the huge stones and almost couldn't breathe. In the moonlight, they were simply stunning.

"Cor blimey," Ron said, clearly awed. "Who made this place?"

"Wizards and witches," I said, my voice sounding even to me like it came from far away. "Thousands of years ago, in the days before the Ministry or Hogwarts or even Wizarding villages, wizards and witches gathered here a few times a year. They exchanged spells they'd invented, traded potions, and performed big spells together, like weather magic and protective spells."

"Weather magic's illegal," Ginny pointed out.

"It wasn't then," I said. "They did huge spells here to ensure rain for their crops and such. The stones were places to amplify and concentrate their power. Most of them didn't have wands back then, so the stones were necessary for that."

"Wicked," Ron said, and laid a hand on the nearest stone. "Hey!" he cried. "You can -- you can feel it. Here, put your hands on it."

He was right; putting a hand on the stones made you feel something like the little buzz of power you felt while casting a particularly complicated spell.

"Well, you lot can stand around feeling stones; I'm going to put up some Muggle-Repelling Charms," Hermione said bossily. She was so relentlessly practical sometimes.

In about a quarter-hour, Hermione had secured the grounds, and we were left with about three-quarters of an hour to kill before dawn began at 5:38 a.m. precisely (Hermione had, of course, calculated it). Too nervous to stand around and discuss the ritual any further, I wandered over to a particularly inviting stone and began to climb it easily, as I'd climbed the trees in the local park when I was a little girl. I'd always had a head for heights, which Aunt Mi-Mi had said was inevitable, with two Quidditch players for parents.

It was chilly, but not unpleasantly so, atop the stone; I hugged my legs for warmth and felt the stone beneath me supply a bit of heat, too. It was deeply magical, and it must have sensed my discomfort. I placed a hand on the stone and tried to thank it silently, having no idea whether it understood.

I sat for a few minutes staring off into the distance. I wished I knew more about what would happen this morning. But Aunt Mi-Mi and Mum had been united in their refusal to tell me much of anything. "This is one thing you must experience for yourself," Mum said, and would not speak further.

After a time, I heard someone clearing his throat beneath me. Expecting Harry, I glanced down. But it was Neville, leaning against the massive stone and peering up at me in the dark.

"May I come up?" he asked, his voice eminently formal.

"You may," I said. I had nothing to lose, and I could not bring myself to turn him away out of spite.

He scaled the stone with considerably less ease than I, but that merely made me admire him for his determination. I smiled wryly at my own thought. Did Neville have a single fault that I would not turn into a virtue?

"What is it?" he asked as he settled down beside me, referring to my smile.

"Nothing. Why did you come up?"

"No reason. I saw you sitting alone."

"Planning on keeping me company? Or on berating me further?" I asked. I couldn't help myself; I'd been in pain for over a month, and it was all because of him.

He winced at that. "I don't know where to begin."

"In regards to what?"

"In regards to the fact that I've been a horrendous arse."

I smiled without meaning to. "Begin with an apology and work from there," I suggested.

At this, he turned his body round so he was facing me and took my hand gently. "Susan. I am so unbelievably sorry."

"For . . . ?"

"For taking my frustration with my parents out on you. For blaming you for something you couldn't help. For not speaking to you for a month."

Now I turned to him and took his other hand. I could imagine the picture we made, sitting facing each other atop a huge stone, holding hands. I liked the picture. "That's a lot to be sorry for," I said sternly.

"I know. But to be fair, what you told me was a lot to get through my skull."

"You mean most of your girlfriends don't turn out to be your friends' daughters from the future?" I asked in mock-surprise.

"Well, I'm one for one so far," he replied.

I giggled a little at this. "Congratulations."

"Cheers." He paused. "I missed you, you know. Terribly."

"I missed you too."

"And I do love you."

I'd gotten used to hearing him say it in the time between Christmas and Valentine's Day, but it came as a surprise now, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from tearing up. "I love you as well."

He put a finger up to his neck and drew out the rowan wood pendant I'd gotten him for Christmas. "I never took it off, y'know. Not even when I thought I was so angry with you."

I reached over and traced the rune with my finger. "Were you ever tempted to?"

He shook his head firmly. "I knew, even if we never spoke again, that the pendant meant more than I was willing to give up. It was -- it was first love, and protection against the dark, and hope for the triumph of good over evil. Taking it off would've been . . . wrong."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said. My calm words didn't betray that within me, something was lighting up that had been dark for over a month. Perhaps I was forgiving him too easily, but it didn't feel that way. It felt like just what I ought to do.

"So . . . if we get back together -- assuming you'll have me -- how much more time do we get?" he asked.

I looked into his eyes for a moment before answering. "Six weeks."

He looked into the starry sky as if for strength or guidance. "Bugger all," he whispered. "And I just threw away a month. More than a month."

"Don't," I cautioned him. "If you want to make the most of the time that's yet to come, you can't dwell on that."

"You're sure about the timeframe? You've got six weeks?" he asked anxiously.

"To the day," I said.

"You couldn't, y'know, stay for a little extra time? Maybe just till the end of the school year?"

I shook my head rapidly. "I can't change the past. Mum and Hermione remember my being gone after May Day."

"You can't change the past? I don't understand -- I thought that's what you were doing here."

I sighed. "It's complicated. Long story short, if something was observed by the people living in this time, I can't make it any different. And Mum and Hermione say I'm to disappear in six weeks, so I'm going to disappear, whether I like it or not."

"You'll go back to your present?"

"That, or die."

Neville, who was still holding both my hands, squeezed them at that pronouncement. "You musn't," he insisted.

I laughed, a little ruefully. "I'd also prefer that I didn't."

"What's going to happen? Why would you die?"

"It has to do with You Know Who," I said. "Beyond that, I really don't know what I can and can't tell you. I'm not even sure what I have to do. I believe I'm here for a reason, but I don't think I've figured it out yet."

Now he smiled, also ruefully. "Do I count?"

I leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. "I meant a Voldemort-related reason, but you absolutely count," I said into his ear.

He took my closeness as the invitation I'd meant for it to be, and kissed me very lightly on the lips. He knew better than to do much more than that. "Am I forgiven?" he murmured.

I drew back and looked at him appraisingly. "Not entirely," I admitted. "The month's been completely pants. And you were just terrible."

"Well, I'll take that for now. We'd better get down; my watch says it's almost half-five."

So we scrambled down from the huge stone, dusted ourselves off, and regrouped. I felt infinitely more relaxed and ready to take on the ritual, and I was very glad Neville had approached me when he did. I almost certainly would've cocked up the ceremony if I'd been in high dudgeon the whole time. I felt ready now, and I straightened my shoulders. We would do this, and we'd do it right.


	25. The Avebury Ritual, Part Two

_Author's Note: It says in my profile that I'd like to finish this story before the New Year, and I still stick by that goal. So here's my idea: if all you lovely people who are reading keep reviewing at (or above -- a girl can dream!) the level that you've been doing, I'll make sure the story is all finished by the last day of this year. (For those of you who've been reading along but not reviewing, here's your chance to help yourself out! And I've enabled anoymous reviews; I hadn't realized they were disabled, and I apologize to those of you I've unwittingly discriminated against.)_

_This is the seventh-to-last chapter (not counting the epilogue), so at a rate of about one chapter a day, we should get through it! Since a lot of people are on break from school and work around this time of year, I think it's a perfect time to have a lot to read. Or consider it my massive holiday gift to you all. Or maybe I'm just in a good mood from the announcement of Book Seven's title. Now, for your consideration, here is one of my personal favorite chapters._

Hermione's voice rang out over the dark plain. "We need to get in position," she called out anxiously. "We need to make a square. Point Me." She peered down at the wand in her palm and called, "Susan, over here!" I ran over to where she stood within the circle of stones. "You're North. You stand here, and face this way," she ordered, and I did.

Then she called for Ron, who jogged up and took his place across from me as the South point. We stood facing each other while Hermione arranged the others: she had Neville stand on my right for West, and Ginny on my left for East, both equidistant from me and Ron. Together, we formed a perfect square.

"Harry, stand in the center," Hermione called as she walked quickly over to the perimeter of the site. He did as he was told, and stood straight and tall facing the space between Ginny and Ron. Meanwhile, I watched as Hermione slowly, awkwardly climbed one of the smaller stones. At the top, she stood, her fear of falling visible to all of us.

I saw her tap her wand to her throat and mouth, "Sonorus," and then I could hear her again. "Everyone ready?" her voice boomed. "Use Sonorus on yourselves."

We did, and all of a sudden I could hear five other people clearing their throats and coughing.

"Stones of Avebury," Hermione began, "during this time in the calendar when day and night are equal, we call on you to relinquish your hidden treasure. We are assembled here in the name of Godric Gryffindor and wizards and witches everywhere. We beseech you to end your protection of that which you are hiding. We offer this man, Harry Potter, as a fitting guardian to succeed you."

The sky began to grow lighter, and the buzz I'd felt while touching one of the stones started tickling my feet. The stones were listening, there was no doubt about that.

"Elements!" Hermione cried, and now there was no fear or hesitation in her voice. "What say you?"

Ginny went first. "In fire was this object forged. The sun's fire has dawned thousands of times upon you, stones, waking you and giving you purpose. The sigils of Gryffindor, the lion and the phoenix, were both born into fire. In the name of fire, I ask you to end your protection of this object."

As she spoke, her hair grew brighter and brighter, which I first attributed to the growing light, but the brightness of her hair soon outstripped any of her surroundings. With the last word, Ginny's hair changed: it became a cascade of flame that writhed and danced around her face and shoulders. There was a collective gasp from everyone watching, but Ginny looked delighted; she tilted her face up towards the rising sun and closed her eyes, letting the fire around her head fall down her back. She was, somehow, completely unharmed.

I knew I had to speak next, but intimidation kept me silent for a moment. Then I gathered my courage and spoke: "In air was this object shaped. In air have you kept vigil, stones. The children of Gryffindor spoke words of magic into the air, and you listened. In the name of air, I ask you to end your protection of this object."

A breeze that I'd thought was just passing through turned into a wind as I spoke, and my last words turned that wind into a whirlwind that began at the ground and climbed up to my waist. My legs were engulfed in a miniature twister that didn't disturb a hair on my head, though it furiously kicked up the leaves that were all over the ground.

Neville lifted his voice, and I drank it in. "In water was this object hardened. Water made you what you are, stones, through millennia of the shaping hands of rain. The body of Godric Gryffindor was made of water. In the name of water, I ask you to end your protection of this object."

I barely even felt surprised when water began to swell at Neville's feet. What began as a puddle soon swelled to a pool, and soon Neville was standing in a circular pond about two feet in diameter. His legs were immersed halfway up his calves, but he didn't appear to be the least bit wet.

Ron was last, and I noted his voice was deeper than usual. "In earth did this object gestate, before it was brought out to be forged and shaped and hardened." The ground began to shake, and the dirt near Ron's feet began rising up in waves. "Stones, you were born of earth, and to earth you will return. We are one and the same." The earth surged up at this; though Ron didn't move an inch, the ground around him broke and heaved. "In the name of earth, I ask you to end your protection of this object."

"The elements have spoken," said Hermione, and when I looked up at her I saw that she was glowing with an eldritch light. "On this morning of the vernal equinox, relinquish this object to our recipient, Harry Potter." At that, Harry took his cue and raised his right arm high in the air. Hermione continued, "He is worthy of this responsibility. We have great need of your assistance. Answer us now."

I held my breath. The wind around my legs was warm and reassuring, and I held out my hands to graze the top of the whirlwind. At this point, it felt like the wind was the only thing keeping me from falling over.

Without warning, the wind whipped away from me, towards Harry, at the same moment that Ginny's fire lanced like a lightning bolt towards the center, Neville's water rushed across the ground into the center, and the groundswell at Ron's feet heaved in Harry's direction. For one brief moment, Harry was crowned in fire, with wind rushing around him, standing atop a mountain of earth, surrounded by a moat of water.

Then it all vanished, leaving Harry lying prone in the center of our square, apparently unconscious. Ginny shrieked, but Hermione called out, "Don't move!"

Slowly, slowly, Harry picked himself off the ground and dusted himself off. I couldn't see the armband anywhere, and I felt a surge of disappointment: it hadn't worked.

The sun was almost completely over the horizon now, and I glanced over at its orange brightness, squinting until tears came. What had we done wrong?

Then Harry spoke: "Children. I wasn't expecting children."

I turned my head again to stare at Harry. His voice was . . . different.

"A thousand years of sleep, only to be disturbed by children. I must say, I am surprised," said Harry-who-was-not-Harry.

"Sir?" Hermione piped up tentatively. "Thank you for answering."

Harry looked up at Hermione, perched up high atop a stone. He shielded his eyes to get a better look. "Hello, little High Sorceress. Are you quite aware of what you've done?"

"Yes, sir. Very aware, sir. We're all in your House at Hogwarts, you know."

"Is that so?" asked not-Harry, astonished. "Well, I suppose you would have to be very brave to attempt something this powerful."

I put a hand over my mouth. It was Godric Gryffindor, speaking through Harry. I saw Neville, Ginny, and Ron all coming to the same conclusion on their own, and they looked as shocked as I felt.

"And yet you're all still in school. What need would six teenagers have for my mark of power?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out. I seized my chance. "We need to destroy it."

Not-Harry swiveled to look at me. I noticed that his eyes were glowing like green fire, and that his shadow did not match Harry's form: it was much bigger and bulkier, and the shadow seemed to have long hair. "Destroy it, little witchling?"

I swallowed convulsively. "Yes, sir."

"And why would you do such a thing to the most important artifact of your House's founder?"

"Sir, the most evil wizard of our time has -- has transformed it."

Not-Harry frowned. "How has he managed such a thing?"

"He's very powerful," I said softly. "We six are sworn to fight him and those he calls allies."

"What does this one call himself?" not-Harry asked, sounding weary.

"Voldemort," I said. "He's Salazar Slytherin's scion. He is trying to rid Britain of Muggleborns."

"It's the blood purity argument all over again," he sighed. "It's been occurring in some form or another since the beginning of magic, though Merlin alone knows how long that's been. I often think we'll never rid ourselves of this conflict."

"But we must try," Neville said, surprising me. "'All that is required for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing.' Besides, if nothing else, we have to carry the torch for those who've given their lives to the struggle."

Not-Harry smiled at him ruefully. "Spoken like someone who knows the cost of war. I must admit, however, that I am puzzled as to why this Voldemort character would be interested in my armband."

"He wants immortality," I said. "So he transformed it into a Horcrux. He knew it would be next to impossible to retrieve."

Not-Harry shuddered. "Fiend. Evil knows no limits. And yet it contains the seeds of its own destruction, for that which is most well-protected is protected by the forces of good. Had you come here professing your devotion to this Voldemort, I would have slain you all where you stood. But as you walk my path, I will relinquish my source of power to you."

"Sir?" It was Hermione again, full of questions as always. "Are you a ghost?"

He chuckled. "No. Not as you understand ghosts. I was the last of my line to wear the armband, so a piece of me has remained with it all these years. Not unlike a Horcrux, actually, but my soul as it inhabited my body while I lived has journeyed, whole and unblemished, to the lands beyond this earth. I am not much more than a memory, but I was a powerful enough wizard to exercise a good deal of autonomy even in this form."

"Will Harry be all right?" Ginny asked anxiously.

Another chuckle. "He'll be fine, little witchling. He can hear everything we're saying. I'll leave him soon, and he'll be just fine."

"But -- but if we destroy your artifact, what will happen to you?" asked Hermione.

He smiled. "I don't know. Maybe the stones will take me in; maybe I'll dissolve into the air; maybe I'll join my soul somewhere past human reckoning. Fear not, and worry not, children. The armband is a symbol of a long-ago time. We built Hogwarts to uplift the ideals of equality, knowledge, and cooperation. The old hierarchy of chiefs is dead, and good riddance. Many who were born into leadership had no business being leaders, and many more who were born into the mud should have been living amongst the stars. I do not mourn the loss of this artifact, and neither should you."

"I hope the stones take you, sir," said Ron, and his voice was strange.

"Ahh, wizardling of the earth, perchance they will. I thank you for your wellwishes. High Sorceress?"

"Yes?" Hermione said nervously.

"Please ask me for what I have."

"Godric Gryffindor," she said, her voice shaking, "please give us your armband."

Not-Harry paused, then nodded once. He reached into a pocket of a cape that wasn't there, and drew out something invisible. I looked at his shadow and saw a small circlet in his left hand. Then he mimed placing the armband on his right arm, and as his left hand rested on his right bicep, the armband appeared.

I only saw it for an instant: it was bronze torc, worked in an elaborate, twisting pattern. It shone for a moment with the light of the now fully risen sun. Then, in an explosion of golden light, it shattered, and the pieces scattered everywhere. A moment later, Harry slumped to the ground as before, and he was still.

Hermione's jumping down from the rock was what clued me into the fact that the ritual was over, and that we could move again. We all converged on Harry's unmoving form, and Ginny and Hermione knelt down to attend to him.

"He's fine," Hermione said after a moment. "Just knocked out."

"We can get the Knight Bus back to Hogsmeade," I said. "No one should be Apparating now anyway."

"Righto," said Ron, and picked Harry up off the ground. Neville scrambled to help, and between the two of them, they managed to get Harry into a standing position.

We walked from the field, and as we passed through the outermost ring of stones, I felt them call to me in a language I hadn't known I knew. I put a hand on the nearest one and felt it acknowledge me as a force for good, much as the unicorn had all those months ago.

Ron had stopped without passing through the ring, and Neville (whose face was already sweaty from exertion) said, "What's the matter?"

Ron was still holding Harry up with one arm, but with the other he'd reached out to the nearest stone to him and was touching it with a queer look on his face.

"RON," Ginny said sharply.

He came back to himself, and frowned with something like regret. Without a word, he began to walk again, and together Neville and Ron carried Harry beyond the field to the nearest road, where Hermione hailed the Knight Bus, and we began the bumpy ride home.


	26. Realizations

_Author's Note: Slight change of plans: the final story will be thirty chapters, not thirty-one. No worries, you haven't lost any content, I just joined two too-small chapters. Thanks to all you wonderful people who keep reviewing . . . you're giving me great Christmas presents!!_

Incongruously, we managed to make it to breakfast that morning. We were all too keyed up to sleep, and we thought that acting as normal as possible was the best way to deflect any attention. Harry, of course, was in the Hospital Wing, as he had yet to regain consciousness.

I glided through the day, barely paying attention to what my professors said, though I managed to put myself on auto-pilot enough to take notes. At lunch, I sat with Neville, and neither of us spoke. It was impossible to put anything into words.

Finally, after all my classes and dinner, I went to visit Harry in the Hospital Wing. He was, mercifully, awake and eating some dinner that someone had apparently spirited up to him. Fawkes the phoenix was perched on a bedside table.

"How are you feeling?" I asked him when he noticed me.

"All right," he said quietly.

I sat down at his bedside and held out my finger to Fawkes, who regarded it in a friendly manner. "Quite an experience, yeah?" I said, stroking Fawkes' head gently.

He smiled a little. "Indeed."

"Has everyone else been by?"

"Oh, yeah. Ginny's absolutely swamped, so she's in the library. Ron said he had to go see if he could get some sleep. But Hermione just left to get her Charms notes; she's going to get me up to speed on what we did today."

I giggled. "Of course she is."

"What about you, Susan? Are you all right? Ron seems a little . . . dazed."

I frowned in thought. "I feel all right. I don't know what could be wrong with us; you're the one who was possessed."

He shook his head. "It wasn't -- Voldemort possessed me once, just for a few moments. He spoke through me and everything. This was different. When I held up my arm, I could feel something telling me that I was giving him permission, and I didn't back down. I just kept thinking about what Dumbledore said, how I was a true Gryffindor. I told myself to just be brave. That's when he came."

Fawkes chose that moment to sing a note, and I began scratching his head again. Then I stopped and stared at the bird for a moment. "When did Fawkes come?" I asked.

Harry shrugged. "He's been here since I woke up."

I looked the phoenix in the eye. "You sense Godric on him, don't you?"

Fawkes bobbed his head, apparently agreeing, and sang another note, this one higher. I smiled and scratched the feathers right below his beak. "Good bird," I said.

Hermione came in then. "Hello, Susan!" she said brightly, in the tone that only a sleep-deprived overachiever can muster. "Harry and I are going to go over today's Charms lesson."

"Don't let me stop you," I said quickly, though Harry's expression seemed to plead with me to do just that. "I just want to spend a couple more minutes with Fawkes." I knew Fawkes from the future, as he would sometimes visit my flat. There didn't seem to be much of a pattern to his appearances and disappearances, but Mum and I were both quite fond of him, and fed him dandelion leaves when he stopped in.

I sat on the bed nearest Harry's and motioned for the bird to follow me; he did, and I stroked his crimson plumage while half-listening to Hermione. "Fidelius can be used for nearly anything," Hermione began to lecture, "but different secrets require different levels of caution for the Secret-Keeper. A secret like, say, the location of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, requires that the Secret-Keeper never say or write the address unless he or she intends to divulge the secret to someone else."

Harry was, surprisingly, listening intently. Then again, perhaps not so surprising -- it was the Charm that had protected him the week before his parents' deaths. "But that's a fairly simple secret," Hermione continued. "Apparently, a lot of what Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries know is protected by Fidelius. Some of those secrets are much more complicated than just the location of something, and so the Secret-Keeper for the Unspeakables must be much more careful. In class, we practiced concealing much harder secrets."

"Like?" prompted Harry.

"Oh, Ron tried to hide the fact that he has red hair. It was really hard to look at him for a minute or so, like there was just blankness where his hair should've been, but it was too hard for him to hold, so we could all see it within a minute or so."

"What did you do?" I asked.

She turned to smile at me. "I hid Professor Flitwick. It worked, too. No one could see or hear him but me. But it's one of those secrets you can break without saying it explicitly -- as soon as I spoke to Flitwick, about half the class could see him again. Then I shook his hand -- he was congratulating me, you see, for managing to hide him -- and the other half of the class cottoned on. I must say, it was fun while it lasted."

Something crashed into my brain, and I sat frozen, one hand on Fawkes' head. The phoenix trilled a few notes, and the world came into focus. This was it. This was how I was going to save Harry. If she could "hide" Flitwick, I could hide him.

"Hermione," I said breathlessly. "Hermione, can I see your notes?"

Both the seventh-years looked at me in confusion. "I -- I brought them up here for Harry to look over," Hermione said.

"I know. Harry, is it all right with you?"

"Sure," he said, much to Hermione's obvious dismay.

"Cheers," I replied. "I'll just be on my way then."

"Wait a sec, Susan," Harry said. "What -- what do we do now?"

I looked at him, and I realized how terrified he was. He'd been fixated for so long on the Horcruxes, and now they were all destroyed.

"Later," I said gently. "We'll worry about it when you come back to Gryffindor Tower, yeah?"

He frowned a little, but he also looked a bit relieved. I left him and Hermione there so I could sit in my dorm and read Hermione's notes for myself.

Harry stayed in the Hospital Wing that night, but with his return the next day, the notion that I could somehow hide him with Fidelius began to dominate my daily thoughts. I didn't have much time to get good at it, so I started going to the Room of Requirement and practicing casting Fidelius.

It was an enormously difficult spell that took a lot of preparation and energy. Oftentimes I'd try and try, not get it right, and be completely unable to continue. Those were the nights I'd slump back to the common room exhausted, and Neville would look at me with concern in his eyes but not ask what the matter was, because he was still walking on eggshells around me.

A week after the solstice, I thought I'd managed to hide a book. It was, appropriately enough, a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. When I felt certain that I'd hidden it, I picked it up, left the Room of Requirement, and headed for the common room. It was Friday after my classes were over; dinner was still to come, but I wanted to see how strong my spellwork was.

I spotted Ginny first, so I went and sat by her. The book pressed against my chest, reminding me of its existence. "Hiya, Ginny."

She looked up from an essay she was writing. "Hi, Susan. All right?"

"Yeah. What are you writing?"

"A Care of Magical Creatures essay. It's a long bugger, too." She squinted at me. "Why are you holding your arm like that?"

That had been in Hermione's notes: the human attraction to secrets will often cause attention to be drawn to hidden items. Under normal circumstances, Ginny probably wouldn't have asked about my arm. "No reason."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all; thanks for asking, though."

"Right," she said, and she kept looking at my arm suspiciously. I decided to test the limits of the Charm: I carefully took the book in both hands, settled it down on the table before us, and flipped it open.

"Hey! That's a book!" she cried suddenly, and I knew the spell was broken. "How did you do that?"

"Just something I'm practicing," I said evasively. "I didn't mean to interrupt your revising."

I worked my way up from _Hogwarts: A History_. I hid other objects -- my satchel, a collapsible cauldron, a broomstick -- and I tested my abilities on various members of the Hogwarts community, though I was careful not to tip my hand to Ron, Hermione, or Harry. They would've recognized the spell for what it was, and that was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

Typically, people were curious about the "missing" article right away, and they generally managed to break the spell within five minutes. If I was careful, and I merely left the object out on a table (as I did with a Quaffle), it could sit there for hours without being noticed. But the moment I interacted with it in any way -- by, say, moving it, or tossing it up and down -- the illusion would shatter.

It was incredibly frustrating for me to spend so much time and effort hiding something for Dean Thomas or Professor Trelawney to suddenly acknowledge its existence not ten minutes later. I wished fervently that it was as easy to hide a thing's existence as it was to hide its location. But apparently, my acknowledgement of an object was close enough to telling someone else about it to clue them into its presence.

As this applied to my father, I worried that, as his Secret-Keeper, I would give him up with the slightest hint. Touching him on the shoulder, whispering something to him, even looking in his direction: all these things could break this brand of Fidelius.

And now that I realized the greater purpose of hiding Dad with Fidelius, I was deathly afraid of breaking it. If Harry were protected by Fidelius, he could walk right up to Voldemort and conquer him; Voldemort would be completely unable to fight back. Without me around, without my "tells," no one could discover Harry's existence. He would be safe.

He would also be alone, less than a ghost, for the next eighteen years. I couldn't imagine how he would agree to this plan. Unless, of course, I told him who I was -- but even that would be a hard sell.

It was difficult to imagine springing anything on him these days. Since destroying the final Horcrux, Harry had been on edge constantly. It didn't take him long to approach me again to ask about the final battle.

"Susan, I have to talk to you," he whispered.

I looked around, nodded, and drew him into a corner. "What's the matter, Harry?"

"Do you know what's going to happen next?" He was almost wringing his hands in distress.

I nodded slowly. "You're not going to like it."

"What is it??"

"You have to wait," I said softly.

He slammed his right fist against his left palm. "No! People are dying, Susan. The time for waiting is over."

"I know. But you won't be able to find You Know Who, and even if you did, he'd be impossible to fight. He makes camp on Dark territory, places that would swallow you whole for lack of a Dark Mark."

He swallowed, but said, "I'll fight him where I need to fight him."

I laid a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, you're very brave. No one doubts that. But you mustn't be stupid."

"It's not stupid to want him finished!"

"You will. But it will be here. At Hogwarts."

He shuddered violently, shaking off my hand. "No. Not here."

"I'm sorry, but there's no way around it. He will come here with his minions on Walpurgis Night."

"Walpurgis Night?"

"It's a sort of Wizarding-pride night for them. It's on April 30th. They'll come as the sun is setting."

"Not here," he repeated. He looked ill. "Not here."

"Here," I said firmly. "You must accept that. If we're going to get you ready, you must accept it."

"Ready? How can I be ready?"

"I can't tell you yet," I said. "I'll come to you when I can. In the meantime, please, relax and enjoy the weather." And I walked away.

The weather really was absolutely brilliant. Spring had come a tad early this year, and nearly all the students spent their free time outdoors, enjoying the warm sun.

In early April, by which time I'd managed to use Fidelius to hide my school chest from one of the other girls I shared a dorm with, Neville and I stole out before dinner to take a walk by the lake. In many ways, our relationship had regressed to how it had been way back in November, when we were both feeling out our boundaries. I was leery of being hurt by him again, and he seemed to be hampered both by guilt and by his knowledge of my impending departure.

That day, we went back to Greenhouse Four for our first visit to Leonora in months. "How are you, old girl?" Neville asked the stolid tree.

"Did you miss us?" I asked her, and climbed up to sit in the fork where her trunk split.

We sat in silence for a while, me in the fork, Neville on the ground, leaning against Leonora's trunk. Neville spoke up after a while. "You're leaving soon."

"Yes," I said simply.

"What's going to happen?" he asked.

"I can't tell you exactly," I hedged. I didn't want to test the limits of Fidelius by telling anyone ahead of time. "But on the thirtieth, in all likelihood, I'll smash my Time Turner and end up back in my time."

He stood up so we were level with each other. "And there's no two ways about that, right?"

I shook my head. "I definitely can't stay here."

He looked down at the ground and took in a few deep breaths. Then he looked up at me, his eyes shining with tears. "I've given it a lot of thought, and -- take me with you."

I looked at him in shock. He couldn't be serious. "Neville, you can't leave your time."

He shook his head frantically. "I can. I can. I'll say good-bye to Gran, tell her I'll see her in twenty years or so, and just -- go. I don't have anyone else to say good-bye to, Susan. It's just you. You're more important to me than anyone. I love you, and if you can't stay, I'll go with you."

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I answered. "No, I mean -- you really CAN'T. I -- I know you in the future, Neville." He reeled back as if I'd slapped him. "I've met you. I saw you when I was a little girl. You don't come with me."

"You didn't tell me," he whispered. "You never said." He was crying now too.

"I didn't want to say anything," I choked out. "I didn't think it was right. But you've been to my flat -- you came for Mum's thirtieth birthday party. Other times, too."

"Let's change it," he said urgently. "Let's make it different. Let's write the ending where we're together."

I jumped down from the tree and took him in my arms, clutching him fiercely. "I wish we could," I whispered into his ear.

"I'll wait for you, then," he babbled. "I'll just -- I'll wait, Susan."

"Don't," I said sharply. "You can't just put your life on hold for eighteen years. I won't allow it. You have to just fold up these months and put them in a corner of your mind and take them out to look at them once in a while." I was the one who was babbling now, but I couldn't help it. "Think of me from time to time, but Neville, don't waste your youth pining."

"Wouldn't be wasted," he mumbled, but I knew he'd capitulated. The pain I felt at that was sharp, but I knew it was for the best, and that it would fade eventually.

I took him and kissed him then, and we were frantic in our affection. Every time I kissed him now was one closer to the last time we'd touch, and I could hardly bear that thought.

We skipped dinner and stayed in the Greenhouse. He told me again and again that he loved me, and I answered with the same words. We both cried until we couldn't anymore. When I looked back on that evening later, I thought of it as a rehearsal for the farewell we'd be forced to face only weeks later. It wouldn't make the last good-bye any easier, but I found myself beginning to accept the fact that the days were slipping from my fingers like water.


	27. Countdown

_Author's Note: Almost at the end, guys. There will probably be nothing new till after Christmas, so make this one last!_

"Susan," Ron hissed in my ear.

I jumped in my seat. I was in the common room, staring into the middle distance, wondering both how I was going to hide Harry and how I was going to say good-bye to Neville in two short weeks. Those two problems kept me on edge most days now, and interrupted my sleep. "What?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for a minute and a half," Ron said irritatedly.

I focused on his face. It wasn't like Ron to get annoyed with me for something so simple. "What's the matter?"

He sat on the arm of the sofa I was on. "I think I have to go back to Avebury."

"What? Why?"

"When we were leaving, the stones spoke to me."

"And?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's going to sound silly."

"Give over!" I was in no mood for dawdling, not now, so close to the end of everything.

"They wanted to teach me a spell. Or -- not a spell, as such, but something that could help us against You Know Who."

I sat up straighter in my seat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd Seen anything about it."

I flinched. What was I supposed to do, tell him that in the future, he, his sister, and his wife would more or less refuse to ever talk about the final battle? "No . . . but that doesn't mean you shouldn't go."

"You think I should?" He looked relieved.

"Absolutely." How could it hurt, after all?

"What should I do when I get there?"

I stifled an urge to sigh. "Just lay your hands on a stone -- whichever one you feel is right -- and wait for it to speak."

"That's it?"

I thought back to the ritual we'd performed. "Remind them of who you are, and what you've done. They'll help you."

"Cheers, Susan. Tell Harry I've nicked his Invisibility Cloak." Without another word, he ran up to his dorm, and soon after, I saw the portrait-hole open and close seemingly without reason. I did sigh then; Ron could be so impetuous at times.

I'd have told Harry about the Cloak, but he was nowhere to be found. That was often the case lately; that combined with the fact that my mother hadn't made it back to our dorm a few nights now reminded me that I hadn't come from a cabbage patch. The less I thought about that, though, the better.

Ron returned a couple hours later and made a beeline for me. He was flushed and out of breath. "It's brilliant," he said. "Abso-bloody-lutely brilliant."

I stood up and steered him over to a quiet corner. "What did they tell you?"

"They taught me -- what did they call it? -- a word of power."

I stumbled back a little at that. When I'd lived with Ron and Hermione that one summer, I'd heard him teasing her by telling her that he'd "use the word of power" on their vegetable garden, and she'd smacked him and told him to stop being an arse. I hadn't asked about it then, but now I was all ears. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Well, I went there, and I felt like a prat just standing there trying to talk to the stones, y'know? I walked around and looked at them all, and finally I just climbed up on one of them. Then I think I dozed off for a bit, and then something sort of woke me up. But I was also still asleep, in a way. You know?"

I did know. I thought back to the time I thought I'd seen my father on the night of my eighth birthday, in that same in-between state of wake and sleep. Sometimes, on the brink like that, the mind accepted reality as it would a fragment of a dream, or vice versa. "Yeah."

"So I was half-asleep, and the stone said, 'We remember you.' And I said, 'Me and my mates did a ritual here a couple weeks ago.' And it said, 'You were us, and we were you.' And it felt like someone had walked right over my grave, but I said, 'Yes, thanks for letting us have that metal thing.'"

I couldn't help it; I giggled. "I'm sure they were charmed by you," I managed to get out.

He grinned. "I think they quite liked me, actually. My rock said, 'It was right; it was fitting. And you, quick little child made of water and bone, you are one of us.'"

I sucked in my breath. "I'm no expert on stone circles, but I do believe that's a compliment."

"It sounded like one," he said smugly. "So I thanked it. And I told it, 'I'm fighting the Dark wizards and witches right now. Can you help me?' So the stone told me, 'If you speak this word to the earth, it will respond. It must respond. Use it wisely.' And it told me the word."

"What is it?"

He shook his head. "First of all, it's not . . . human. I don't know how well I'll be able to pronounce it. Secondly, if I said it, I'm afraid Hogwarts would fall in on our heads."

I nodded. "Save it for the battle."

"Only two weeks away!" he said, almost cheerily. When I looked startled, he had the good grace to look chagrined. "Harry told me and Hermione when you told him."

"Hmph," was all I could think to say. Then a stray memory hit me, and I ran for my bookbag before it left me. What had Luna said about the final battle?

"Susan?" Ron said, sounding confused.

"Shh!" I cried. I flipped open my Divination textbook to the appendix containing the hexagrams of the I Ching. I knew I'd recognize it if I saw it.

"Thirty-four . . . thirty-five . . . ha! Thirty-six! This is it!" I cried.

Ron strode over. "What are you on about?"

"Read that last line." I jabbed my finger at the page. "'Not light but darkness. First he climbed up to heaven, then plunged into the DEPTHS of the EARTH.'"

Ron looked at me in astonishment. "What is this?"

I decided to gloss over Luna's role in the process. "I Divined the course of the final battle, and this is what the I Ching told me!" At his bemused look, I explained, "It's an Eastern Divination technique. But I think this is it! I think this 'depths of the earth' business means you! You're going to use this word of power, and old You Know Who will just be sucked down into oblivion."

Ron frowned. "But it's Harry's job to defeat You Know Who."

I nodded. "I know. But this is going to be key, I can tell. Just promise me that no matter what, you'll use it when the time comes."

He nodded too, though he looked a little baffled.

Things were moving fast. The day that Hogwarts would be attacked would be the end of it all, but I couldn't let my knowledge go to waste. I went up to the Headmistress' office one day about a week before the end.

She opened the door for me when I knocked and let me inside. The portrait of Dumbledore on the wall waved merrily at me, and I waved back. "Hello, sir," I said.

"I think I can guess who you are . . . or who you'll be," Dumbledore's portrait said.

When I looked startled, McGonagall smiled. "I told him about you, Potter."

"Oh. Ma'am, I have to warn you about something."

"Yes?" she said. "Your parents going to go traipsing over to Wales again?" Again I started; again she smiled. "Don't think I'm as ignorant of your movements as you'd wish me to be. I've put you all on a very long leash, because I believe what Harry and his band have been doing is absolutely necessary. But I do not care to remain in the dark about it."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. "If you please, ma'am, on the night of the thirtieth, you should cancel any Astronomy lessons or outdoor detentions."

Now it was her turn to look startled. "What do you know, Miss Potter?"

"I know the Death Eaters are coming here. But whoever remains inside the castle will be unharmed."

At this, McGonagall rose from her chair, nearly toppling it. "Death Eaters? Here? Again?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We must send the students home." She began looking around, ostensibly for a way to sound some sort of alarm.

"No, ma'am," I said, becoming alarmed. "You don't do that."

"Whyever not?" she cried.

"Voldemort musn't know that we know of his plans," I said quellingly. "And no one is in any danger if they stay inside."

"And what of the students who won't?"

"If you make sure everyone is inside when they come, then the only ones outside will be the ones who choose to be there," I said solemnly. "Ron, Harry, Hermione -- they're all of age. You can't stop them."

"Miss Potter, while they are students in my school, I can protect them in any way necessary. And if the Death Eaters are coming here, I refuse to present them with a schoolful of sitting ducks!"

"Minerva," said Dumbledore's calm voice. We both turned to face his portrait. "You are forgetting that for Miss Potter, all of this is old history. If she says that the students will not be harmed, you must believe her."

"What if she's wrong??"

"It's not a matter of right and wrong; it's simply a matter of past and future. Time only happens once; if the Death Eaters did not breach our walls, then they cannot. They will not. Trust her, Minerva."

"Albus, you seem far too willing to entrust our students' lives to the word of a young girl."

"No, I'm just mindful of the alternative. Susan is correct; if you were to send the students home, Voldemort would rewrite his plans. Since he does not do that, you must keep them here."

"But how am I to ensure their safety?" McGonagall almost wailed.

"Gather them in the Great Hall," Dumbledore suggested. "Have a dance, a concert, an assembly. Anything to keep them in your sight."

She sat down again heavily. "A . . . dance?"

"Susan, may I ask what time Tom's friends will be joining us?" Dumbledore's voice was light, as if he were discussing a tea party.

"As the sun sets," I said.

"A little before six, then," Dumbledore mused. "Schedule something for five o'clock; make sure all the children are in the Great Hall, and station your Prefects at the doors to prevent any of the students from slipping out."

"Perhaps a banquet," McGonagall said, getting into the spirit a little.

"Perfect," Dumbledore said. "Think of an excuse, book a band, and you're all set. Susan, thank you for your assistance."

"Not at all," I said quickly, and waved good-bye to them as I slipped out.

By the next day, there were notices all over the school that the Weird Sisters would be playing at the Hogwarts Mid-Term Feast on the evening of April 30th. Everyone was aflutter; they didn't know why McGonagall had decided to treat us to this evening, but no one cared to inquire too much. But that evening at dinner, the three heroes did inquire . . . of me, of course.

"Did you tip her off?" Hermione hissed.

"Of course I did," I said calmly, buttering a scone. "Everyone has to be indoors when they come."

"Except us," Ron offered.

"Precisely," I said. "I'm afraid you'll be missing the concert."

"Should we tell the other members of the D.A.?" mused Hermione.

"No," Harry said quickly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Stop thinking about my sister for a moment, mate, and think about everyone else. This is what you trained them for."

"I didn't train them so they could die like Luna," Harry gritted.

"They want to fight," Hermione said softly. "You have to let them."

"Fine, if you two are so damn sure that everything will be a piece of cake, then you tell them." He stood up angrily and stormed off.

"Should we tell them?" Hermione asked me after Harry was out of earshot.

I started a little at this, not really knowing the answer. I decided to wing it. "I think you're right, Hermione; they did train for this. You have to let them have the opportunity."

She nodded. "I'll start spreading the word. Ron, you want to talk to Dean and Seamus?"

He nodded. "Make sure the people you tell keep it sealed up tight, though," he said. "Everyone else has to go to the concert."

"Of course," she said, clearly a little irritated that Ron had thought to mention this before she could.

"If we start now, maybe everyone will really be ready for those bloody Death Eaters," Ron said hopefully.

I smiled at his optimism and hoped he was right.

The days wore on until the night of the 29th, when Neville and I decided to spend the night stargazing just out of the Whomping Willow's reach.

We lay on the grass together, wrapped up in a blanket I'd stolen from the common room, my head on his chest. After a while lying in silence, I pointed up at a bright grouping of stars. "I was pretty terrible at Astronomy, but I think those stars go together."

"I wasn't good at it either," Neville confessed. "Let's invent a constellation."

"Okay. Well, it's obviously a flowering shrub."

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

"See how it sort of splays out?" I gestured grandly with the arm that wasn't pinned under Neville. "Shrub. Flowering shrub."

"Whatever you say," he said, and kissed me on the cheek.

"Neville?" I asked, and wished my voice weren't trembling so.

"Susan?"

"Will you . . . will you look up at the sky once in a while? And find our constellation?"

He turned so he was on his side facing me, and I did the same. I saw tears brimming in his eyes, but he didn't let them spill. "Every night, if you like."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Once in a while."

He kissed me, and I clung to him for a while. When we got too cold to remain outside, we snuck back to the common room. At the bottom of the stairs to my dorm, I clutched his hand a little tighter.

"Will I see you again?" His voice was gruffer than usual, and I wondered if this was how he would sound when he was older.

"No," I said, and felt the word rush through me like fast-acting poison.

He reached out and ran a hand through my hair. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch without meaning to. Then we kissed for -- I couldn't help thinking -- one last time.

"Good night, love," Neville said, locking eyes with me.

"Good night," I whispered, and backed up the stairs, not breaking his gaze until the last possible moment. In the dorm, I cried soundlessly into my pillow. I didn't sleep a wink.


	28. Walpurgis Eve

_Author's Note: And we're back! If you've got time, I'd recommend reading a little about Walpurgisnacht on Wikipedia or something similar; it will give you an idea of why the Death Eaters chose this day. But it's not at all essential to understanding the story._

It was April 30th, and time for me to break out my father's Invisibility Cloak for the first time since my first day in this time. I sent Ginny to breakfast without me, saying I was too ill to eat; as soon as she left, I began packing for my looming departure. When I'd stuffed everything into my satchel, I left a letter along with the crystal ball necklace under Ginny's pillow, grabbed the Cloak, and set off to find Harry.

Somehow Hermione had managed to convince Harry and Ron to attend their classes that day regardless of what would happen that evening. Since Harry and Ron shared all their classes, this made it difficult for me to catch Dad by himself, but when Ron took a trip to the bathroom during their break between Potions and Defense, I hunkered down by Harry, whispered, "It's Susan; follow me to the Room of Requirement," and tugged on his sleeve. I saw his eyes go wide, but he followed me up to the seventh floor.

Inside, I flung off the cape. "Harry, we need to talk," I said.

"You nicked my Invisibility Cloak?" he said, sounding annoyed.

"Not exactly," I said. "If you let me explain, it'll all become clear. Please, sit down."

We both sat, and I drew in a deep breath. "You must promise me that whatever I say, you won't leave this room."

He frowned. "All right, I promise."

I paused for a moment. How to explain after all these months? "Harry, I'm not really Ron and Ginny's cousin."

His eyes widened. Before he could burst in, I finished the thought: "I'm your daughter. I'm a time traveler."

"Susan, this isn't funny," Harry said, and his voice was tinged with panic. "Voldemort is coming here tonight. We can't waste time on practical jokes."

"It's not a joke. All that Seer stuff was a cover for the fact that I'm from the future and I knew everything already."

His mouth moved a few times without making a sound. "It's bollocks."

"It isn't. You remember how you thought I might be your mum? There's a reason I resemble you."

"You don't look anything like me."

"Harry, I don't know what I can tell you that will convince you. All I can tell you is that some time in the past month, you and Ginny . . . well, conceived me."

Harry went a horrible shade of grey. "Oh no."

I grinned. "It's all right! Molly and Arthur won't be angry."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Harry said, putting his head between his knees.

I patted him on the back. "It's okay, Dad. It's okay."

"DON'T call me Dad." Then his head shot up again. "Wait a sec. Why are you telling me this now? Why not months and months ago?"

"I had to help you through the destruction of the Horcruxes. I've almost completed my task, so I'll be going home any moment now."

"But that doesn't -- why did you come here under false pretenses??"

"If you or Ginny had known that she'd fall pregnant this April, I wouldn't be here to tell the tale," I said sardonically. "You might've been a bit more careful."

"We used -- it was just this one --" He groaned in frustration. "What am I going to do?"

"You? You're going to defeat Voldemort."

He looked at me swiftly. "You're from the future."

"Yes."

"A future in which I've already defeated Voldemort."

"Yeeees . . . ."

"Why don't you seem sure?"

"Well, I believe that's what will happen. But no one actually sees you defeat him."

He squinted and thought about that for a moment. Then he went white. "I die. I'm dead."

"No, no, I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen," I said soothingly. "I have a plan."

"You have a plan." He laughed, sounding a bit unhinged. "My -- my time-traveling bastard daughter from the future has a plan about how to retroactively save my life."

I drew back a little. "No reason to be cruel," I said, hurt.

"I'm sorry, Susan, but you must admit that this sounds INSANE."

"Try living in the past with your teenaged parents for a year," I shot back. "Then tell me what 'insane' really means."

He glared at me. "So what's this brilliant plan?"

"Before I tell you, I have to tell you two things first."

"Yeah?"

"First of all, the future is immutable. Anything I know can't be changed."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't like the sound of this."

"Secondly, in my future, you've been missing since . . . well, today. This very moment, in fact."

He jumped up. "No."

"Yes."

"I'll -- I'll leave right now!" he cried, wild-eyed.

"No you won't," I said quellingly. "Because you don't. You didn't, and you won't."

"Don't I have free will?" he raged.

"Yes and no," I said. "You do disappear now; that much is certain. But since no one but you knows the circumstances of your disappearance, it could be that you just take your Invisibility Cloak and go traipsing off to South America. Or you could go into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and entomb yourself in the Chamber of Secrets. I'm trying to give yourself an opportunity to defeat Voldemort and -- eventually -- make it back to me and Mum."

He sat down slowly. "What's your plan?"

"You remember Hermione's lesson when you were in the Hospital Wing, right?" He nodded dumbly. "I want to hide you with Fidelius."

"But -- that'll break if you even look at me." When I shot him an incredulous look, he retorted, "Yes, I do listen to Hermione."

"I'm impressed. Here's what I'm thinking: I'll hide you with Fidelius, then I'll return to my own time straight away."

He stared off into the distance, thinking. "Then . . . I could duel Voldemort, and he wouldn't even be able to know who or what was weakening him."

I grinned. "Exactly."

"And I'll defeat him. And then what?" He looked back at me. "Then I spend the rest of my life being invisible to every other human being on earth?"

"Until I return to the future," I corrected. "Then I'll break the spell."

"How long will that be, exactly?"

"Eighteen years."

Harry stared off again, and then without warning, he put his head in his hands. I suspected he was crying. After a minute, he spoke thickly: "I didn't even get to say good-bye."

I put a hand on his knee. "I know. I'm so sorry. I couldn't risk anyone suspecting this. I don't know if it would work if they did."

"Ginny's going to be raising my child by herself, and Ron and Hermione will -- they'll feel guilty the rest of their lives!"

"Harry, the three of them SENT me here. They've had hope, all these years, that I would bring you back with me."

"Can't you do that?" he asked, looking at me with shining eyes. "Just take me with you?"

"Too risky," I said. "If you didn't manage to come, you'd be stranded here. And then you'd have to die for the future to be right. I'm trying to make sure you end up alive, Dad."

He didn't object this time to the moniker. "This is too much," he mumbled.

"I know," I said. "But I think we should get it over with."

"What, now??" he said.

"Harry, there's no time. They'll have noticed you're gone by now, and they'll come and look here soon enough."

"Isn't there another way?" he moaned.

"I've turned it over and over in my head. Hermione's been thinking it over all my life. This is it, Dad."

He squared his shoulders at that proclamation. Then he stood, and I followed suit. To my surprise, he reached out and hugged me to him. "I'll see you in eighteen years," he said.

I smiled a little sadly. "Be strong," I said. Then I stood a few feet away from him and began weaving the spell. It was entirely nonverbal, and I began by visualizing what I had to hide: Harry, Harry, Harry. I thought about him, his mussed black hair, his Coke bottle specs, his eyes that I'd inherited. Then I thought, "Fidelio," and I felt the hum of magic in the air that meant the spell had taken hold.

"Oh, that felt queer," he said, and examined his hands and arms. They looked normal to me; I wondered how they looked to him.

Just then, I heard a frantic knocking at the door and Mum's voice: "Harry! Harry, are you in there?"

Harry looked at me in mute anguish; I fumbled in my satchel for my Time Turner. "Harry, we're going to come in," came Hermione's voice, much calmer than Ginny's.

I only had a moment: I ran to Harry, gave him a filial kiss on the cheek, looped the Time Turner round my neck, seized it by the round metal top, and dashed it against the high wooden table that had suddenly appeared by my right hand. (This was, after all, the Room of Requirement.)

"What was that noise?" I heard Hermione ask Ginny, and then I felt as though I'd been speeding along on a racing broom and had suddenly braked without slowing first. I was flung headlong out of my parents' time, but I blacked out long before I could say with any certainty just which time I'd landed in.


	29. Reunions

_Author's Note: I'm so sorry, guys. I have been waiting and waiting for to resolve their email alert issues, and clearly it has yet to happen. But I don't think I can keep you all in suspense any longer._

_If you're reading this, it means you've been checking back for updates, and I can't even tell you all how much I appreciate your dedication! If fixes its problems, I'll post the next chapter as soon as that happens. If it doesn't, the final chapter (excepting the epilogue) will probably be posted on the 2nd or 3rd, so Happy New Year!_

When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was on the floor of the Room of Requirement. My head ached horribly, and a few shards of broken Time Turner were embedded in my fingers. I tried to remember who I was and what on earth I was doing, but came up with nothing.

There was a pretty lilac potion in a vial lying next to me, and I uncorked it and drank it, mostly for lack of anything better to do. In a minute or so, I remembered who I was: Susan Potter. And I'd just broken the Time Turner I'd been using for the last year or so. I had no idea, though, what time I was in now.

I managed to peel myself off the floor and stagger out into the hallway, where students ran past me on their way to class. I squinted at them in confusion. None of them looked too familiar, but that didn't mean much. Every bit of me hurt. All I wanted was to know when I was.

Then I heard a familiar voice coming from below. "Wotcher, Juno!" cried a young man. "McGonagall's in a right state today; don't even try to cross her."

I staggered to the nearest balcony and looked down to find the source of the voice. There he was -- Jamie Lupin. Two floors below.

"Jamie!" I yelled, or tried to yell. It came out as more of a screech.

He looked up, and within a moment, a look of utter astonishment registered on his face. "S-Susan?"

"Help!" I managed to call, then fell down on the stone floor. I'd never felt anything like this pain. My head felt like it was about to explode.

I didn't black out, but things became very fuzzy for the next ten minutes or so. The next thing I knew, I was in the Hospital Wing with good old Madam Pomfrey tending to me.

"I knew to expect this," she told me in a low voice. "I remembered seeing you twenty years ago. And then you didn't show up for school this year. I knew you'd turn up sooner or later, timesick and near death."

"Timesick?" asked Jamie, who was fretting by my bedside.

Madam Pomfrey looked at him sharply. "It's for Susan to tell you -- when she feels better, of course." Then she gave me more of the lilac potion I remembered from the Room of Requirement, and a pink one, and a green one. Under normal circumstances I'd have asked her what they were for, and what was wrong with me, but I could barely speak.

Jamie took my hand and sat by my bed in mute horror. I thrashed in pain and fear in my bed until, mercifully, I passed out a few minutes later.

I must have slept for a good long while, because when I woke up, Jamie was gone, but I felt much better. My mouth was cottony, and my eyes were crusty. I rubbed them before opening my eyes fully.

When I could focus on the world, the first thing I saw was Mum. I wanted to cry in relief. She was peering down at me with a face full of concern and guilt, but it was my mother -- my responsible, loving, adult mother.

"Mum," I croaked, and she fell on me, hugging me fiercely, sobbing incoherently. I squeezed my eyes shut, reveling in the hug only a mother could give. Then I looked over her shoulder.

He was a little taller than I'd last seen him, and he'd filled out a bit. His features had gone from boyish to decidedly masculine. But the slouch, with his hands in his pockets and his hair falling over his forehead, was unmistakeable.

"Dad," I said, half in wonder, half in satisfaction.

Hearing this, Mum drew back enough to look me in the face. When she saw my focus was behind her, she stood up slowly and, as if she almost dreaded what she would find, turned around.

I was the only witness to my parents' reunion; Madam Pomfrey was consulting with Professor Kegg, the Potions Master, as to how best treat my timesickness, and the Hospital Wing was not housing any other patients besides me. It was the most heartbreaking sight I believed I would ever see. Mum clearly could not believe the apparition before her; she reached out and fumbled with Dad's clothing, trying to convince herself he was real. The look on her face was sharp with grief.

Dad, to his credit, did not rush her. He merely held out his arms and said quietly, "Gin."

With that, she stumbled into his embrace, and they clung to each other, finally able to see and touch each other for the first time in eighteen years. I watched, silent and fiercely joyous. Did I also feel a tinge of envy? I pushed that feeling down and let myself soak in the moment.

To their credit, they swiftly remembered the presence of their incapacitated teenaged daughter; within a minute or so, they'd drawn up two chairs and sat down by my bedside. They held each other's hands tightly, but besides that and the drying tears on their faces, there was no indication that they'd been kept apart for nearly two decades.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" asked Dad quietly. I marveled at how much he'd grown up in the intervening years.

"Better," I said hoarsely.

Mum surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye. "Madam Pomfrey told us it's a classic case of timesickness. Hermione had read about it, but she said there was no way to avoid it. I'm so glad you're all right, sweetheart."

"Timesickness?"

"When you use a Time Turner, it takes you through the hours, or years, in your case, gradually, though very quickly. When you smash one, however, it just plucks you out of one time and deposits you in your own time," Mum explained patiently. "The human body isn't really built for that sort of manhandling. It would certainly kill a Muggle."

"You would have died if you hadn't been here," Dad said gravely. "Madam Pomfrey was expecting you and had the appropriate potions on hand."

I didn't quite know what to say to them, so I just smiled weakly.

Mum leaned down then and smoothed the hair back from my face. "Honey, thank you. Thank you so much. You've saved us all."

I blushed. I'd only done what I'd been told to do, more or less, and I'd never felt like I had much of a choice. I didn't deserve to be treated like a hero. I was more curious as to what Dad had been up to all these years. "Dad?"

He leaned forward too. "Yes?"

"Where have you been?"

He chuckled at that a little, but Mum looked to him with the same curiosity on her face that I felt. "An easier question would be, where haven't I been?" He looked at the two of us and realized we wanted real answers, so he took a deep breath.

"Well, I tried sticking around at first, but that was -- difficult." Tears welled up in Mum's eyes again, but Dad went on. "I did stay around long enough to see you be born, Susan. I didn't want to miss that. Then I traveled. I had my broomstick, and I had Fawkes." At my surprise, he smiled. "Yes, Fidelius doesn't quite work on non-humans. So I've been all over Europe. I actually managed to learn some of the stranger non-human languages: Mermish, Gobbledegook, Fairy. I never stayed in one place too long, but I liked going places where there'd be non-humans who would recognize me. And you came with me," he said, the last bit having been addressed to Mum. Dad pulled out the changing photo Mum had given him during their last Christmas together and handed it to her for her to look at. Then he turned back to me. "I had a couple very close calls with some very dangerous creatures, but I managed to make it home once in a while. I think you may have seen me a few times, am I right?"

I smiled. "Yes. My eighth birthday."

He smiled back. "I tried to make it home for your birthday every year. When you were a baby, you saw me all the time; I'm sure you don't remember. As you got older, though, you lost that ability. Your eighth birthday was the last time."

"What's today?" I asked, suddenly cognizant of the fact that I had no idea of the answer.

"May 1st, 2016," Mum said gently. "You've been gone here for months and months."

That would explain why Jamie was so shocked to see me. But my curiosity was not sated. "What happened . . . the day I left?" I managed to get out.

But Dad shut down that line of questioning: "Not now, all right, honey? Let's wait for everyone to be together again, yeah?"

I nodded and closed my eyes. I was overcome with emotion and exhaustion, so I dropped off quickly.

I drifted in and out of consciousness for the next three days or so, and each time I woke up, there was a new family member smiling at me: Grandma, Edouard, Aunt Mi-Mi, Uncle Ron. Madam Pomfrey finally saw fit to discharge me on the morning of the fourth day, and Mum and Dad took me home to our flat.

It was just as I remembered it; Mum hadn't changed a thing. I walked around slowly, touching all the relics of my childhood. This was where I belonged, there was no question. But I knew I'd miss the past for the rest of my life.

Mum, who'd taken off work for the rest of the week, took me and Dad shopping that day. Dad hadn't been able to get much in the way of clothes for the past eighteen years, and I'd actually outgrown much of my own wardrobe, so it was a necessary trip. It was also enormously fun: on the one hand, it was a little like being back with them as they'd been as teenagers; on the other, I was finally able to walk around Diagon Alley with both my parents, holding both their hands, running up to store windows and begging them like a little kid for a new set of Gobstones. It was easy to make them laugh nowadays, happy as they were with their reunion and their roles as members of a complete family.

When we got home that evening, I opened the door to our flat to find a huge banner hanging up that said WELCOME HOME, SUSAN, and a moment later, two dozen people suddenly removed their Disillusionment Charms.

"SURPRISE!" they cried, and I grinned. It was my whole family -- Grandma, Grandpa, all my uncles and aunts, my cousins who hadn't started Hogwarts yet -- along with Remus and Tonks.

Apparently they'd been in the flat all day getting ready for us, so there was all sorts of wonderful food to be had. Mum sent me to my bedroom to change into a new fancy set of robes we'd bought for me that day, and when I came out, everyone exclaimed that I'd grown so, especially Grandma.

Though it was ostensibly a coming-home party for me, it was also a reunion for Dad. It wasn't long before he and Ron and Hermione migrated to a corner of the room and began discussing all the time they'd lost. It made me smile; some things never changed. Ron and Hermione's children, Henry, Chester, and Lynnea, were gathered around me, chorusing that they'd missed me something awful, and had I brought anything back for them? My other little cousins played with each other as their respective parents tried to keep them mostly in check. Mum and Grandma sat, happy and quiet, surveying the scene.

After only about half an hour, I realized that I felt as though someone were missing. It only took me a few minutes to realize just who wasn't there.

As though she could read my thoughts, Mum sat beside me as I sat staring off into the distance and put an arm around me. "I didn't invite him," she said in a low voice, so no one else could hear, "but I did let him know you got home safely."

I looked at her with tears in my eyes. "Mum, I --"

"I know, love," she said, and hugged me tightly. I tried my best not to cry. "It's the same story everywhere, throughout time: we journey to make a difference, and when we return we find ourselves the thing most changed."

Mum let me go and reached up to her neck to unclasp the crystal ball necklace she was wearing. Then she fastened it around my neck. "You left this with your letter, remember?"

I chuckled a little through my tears. "Of course I remember. It's not even a week ago for me."

"Sorry," she said. "Can you get through the party? We'll talk about the rest later."

I nodded, dashed the tears from my eyes, and stood up, anxious to enjoy the rest of my time with my whole extended family. The night was long, but I did love them all, and it was good to see them. When Hermione and Ron left with their brood, they promised to return the next day, when they would debrief me about what had happened on the day Voldemort attacked Hogwarts.


	30. Two Sides to Every Story

_Author's Note: Thank you all for your kindness, patience, and responsiveness these past couple months. You are all an author's dream come true. To those of you who have consistently reviewed (you know who you are) -- I owe you more gratitude than I can outline here._

_I am toying with the idea of spin-offs: pieces that are much shorter than this one, but set in the same universe. If you review, and if there are any periods of time you'd particularly like covered in future stories, please say so in the review._

_There is an epilogue yet to come; it is chapter-length, and I am quite fond of it. I will post it this weekend at the latest._

Mum made me a big breakfast the next morning, defending the spread by saying I looked drawn and pale. Dad laughed at this and told her she was acting like Molly, which made Mum cross her arms and sigh, but smile all the while. She was usually smiling these days.

Before Hermione and Ron arrived, while Dad was showering and getting dressed, Mum gave me the letter that I'd written to read. It was yellowed and torn on the creases, but she'd saved it all these years.

_Dear Mum,_

_Yes, you're my mum. I'm actually in you right now. If you don't believe that, ask Tonks; she's seen my Time Turner. I'm sorry I didn't tell you for all this time, but I had to be undercover so I could help you and Dad and the others with the Horcruxes and all. I hope you're not angry with me._

_By the time you read this, I'll be back in my own time, and Dad will be gone, too. You're not going to see Dad again for a while -- he's been gone my whole life. It's going to be hard for the two of us, you raising me without him, but I hope I can bring him back to you. I can't promise anything, Mum, but I'm going to try my best._

_You've been getting me ready for this trip all my life, and I have to say, you and Aunt Hermione did a really good job. You've always been very honest with me, letting me know that this trip was something I had to do, and I'm glad for that. You never told me about Neville, but I think that was the right choice. I wouldn't have wanted to know ahead of time._

_I'm leaving you the necklace you gave me. Hold onto it -- you can give it back to me when I see you again, in eighteen years. You made me promise to come back to you, and I can promise you that much._

_Love, Susan Lily Potter._

I put the letter gently on the kitchen table. "Do you know how long it took me to believe it?" Mum asked me.

I looked up at her. "How long?"

"Not till you were born." She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "While I was pregnant, I still thought the whole thing could be a joke or a trick. But when you were born . . . it was you. It was so clearly you. You had the hair and the eyes and that thoughtful look to you. That's when I knew."

"It must've been a relief," I said, "to know you had a chance to see Dad again."

Mum laughed. "A relief? I was seventeen and had just become a single mother to a little baby girl who I'd have to send into mortal danger while she was still a child. I was terrified. That's why I didn't want to believe it, Susan. I didn't want to believe that I could be so callous as to send my baby into harm's way."

"But you had to!" I cried.

Mum shook her head. "I wonder . . . well. You would've ended up back there no matter what. It was best that I knew about it and prepared you."

Dad walked in, freshly shaven and dressed in his new clothes. "How are my two best girls?" he asked, and Mum and I put on smiles. It didn't do to dwell on the past too much.

Ron and Hermione showed up shortly thereafter, having taken off of work and left their children with Molly for the day. We sat in the sitting room of our flat, and I was struck by how familiar this felt, the five of us sitting and talking about Voldemort.

"Susan wanted to know what happened on the day she left," Mum said carefully.

"Well, I'd be fascinated to hear what you did, Harry," Hermione said, and we all smiled.

"I'll go first, then," said Dad. "Let's see . . . well, Susan, right after you disappeared, Ginny and Hermione burst into the room. But of course they couldn't see me. I hadn't really . . . considered fully the implications of Fidelius. I followed them back to Gryffindor, banging on suits of armor and rattling balustrades, but they blamed it all on Peeves. When I tried grabbing Ginny's arm, she just said she felt chilly. There was nothing I could do to make them notice me.

"That was upsetting. But then I remembered the reason for it all: the Death Eaters would be at Hogwarts that night. I nearly panicked -- I didn't know how to defeat Voldemort, even if he couldn't fight back. So I ran to the Headmistress' office, hoping to use the Pensieve. I thought maybe Dumbledore had left me a memory that would help.

"It took forever for McGonagall to leave her office, but when she did, I slipped in. When I was looking for the Pensieve, I heard Dumbledore's portrait speaking to me.

"'Hello, Harry. You haven't been to see me in donkey's years!' he said.

"I looked up at him. 'You can see me?' I asked.

"'Harry, I'm old, but I'm not blind,' he said.

"'No, it's not that, Professor. Susan hid me with a Fidelius charm. She's -- well --'

"'Your daughter. Yes, I'm aware of the situation. That was terribly clever of her. This will render you invisible, and therefore well nigh invincible, to Voldemort,' he said.

"'Yes, sir, I know, but -- how am I to fight him?' I asked.

"'You mustn't use Dark magic against him; it will only make him stronger,' he told me. 'Ideally, you want to strip him of his ability to hurt innocents and command the Death Eaters.'

"'But how can I?' I asked.

"'You have destroyed all the errant pieces of his soul, Harry. He is just as vulnerable, perhaps moreso, as any human being. Have you studied human Transfiguration yet?'

"'Yes, sir,' I said.

"'What has the Headmistress taught you about performing Transfigurations on other people?'

"'She said we're not to try it, as it's extraordinarily tricky and can often be . . . irreversible . . . .'

"Then he smiled. 'Yes, Minerva is very conservative about these things. From what I understand, Miss Granger Transfigured you into a cat with very little trouble. However, it's a far easier proposition, turning a person into an animal -- because we are, after all, animals in our own right -- than it is turning a person into something inanimate.'

"I knew what he meant me to do then, so I thanked him and left the office. It was getting to be quite late by that time, so I went outside to wait for the Dark forces. And around sunset, they came. They just . . . walked in the front gate. There were dozens of them.

"I knew that I could still be taken out by a spell if it happened to hit me. I'd got my broom from Gryffindor Tower, and I figured if I were riding it, no one would be able to see it, either. I was right, too: I flew right over the heads of all the Death Eaters to the back, where Voldemort was commanding them. He had Nagini the snake with him, and he was thundering out these orders, telling them to breach the castle walls. From far away, I saw some kids in Hogwarts robes ready to fight -- it must've been you all," he said to the other three adults.

"Yeah," Ron said. "It was the whole D.A."

Harry nodded and continued. "I heard Voldemort saying not to kill anyone, but to take as many hostages as possible. He -- he was going to kill them one by one until McGonagall agreed to give me up. I knew I couldn't wait for that, so I began by Disarming him from my broom. It was almost funny to watch -- he lost his wand, but he didn't even realize it for a moment. And then I suppose Fidelius kept him from realizing that someone had Disarmed him. So he just ordered Wormtail to retrieve his wand.

"Wormtail gave it back to him, but then said, 'Master, do you really intend to kill any child just to get your hands on Potter?'

"Voldemort just sort of looked at him. 'Of course, you nitwit.'

"'Even the pureblooded ones?' Wormtail asked.

"'I will kill whomever it takes to get through to the Potter boy,' said Voldemort.

"I think that was what did it for Wormtail . . . Peter. I don't think he ever really believed in Voldemort's cause, and he certainly didn't hate me. He felt indebted to me, and for whatever it was worth, he had loved my father, once upon a time. So when I Disarmed Voldemort a second time, Peter took Voldemort's wand, transformed, and ran off with his tail curled round it."

I gasped and looked around; everyone looked as shocked as I felt. Dad continued, "That left me free to weaken him however I felt was necessary. But I knew I wasn't to use Dark magic, so I sent in my Patronus."

"Brilliant," breathed Hermione. "As an extension of you, the Patronus would be as invisible as you yourself were."

Dad grinned. "Yeah, it was amazing. Voldemort was being attacked by this thing he couldn't see, and meanwhile he didn't have his wand, so he couldn't fight it off, and he couldn't put up any sort of shield. And all the Death Eaters had long since stormed the castle; Peter was supposed to be the one who stayed by Voldemort. So he was almost completely helpless.

"I waited until he sort of fell to his knees. Then I flew down to the ground, got off my broom, and looked him straight in the eye. Of course, he couldn't see me, but I wanted to look him in the face before I ended it.

"I ended up Transfiguring him into a rock slab, like one of the ones we saw at Avebury. It was simple enough. I almost wanted it to be more dramatic, more difficult. But that was it. With the last piece of his soul homeless, there was nothing left of him.

"Behind me, I heard this unbelievable . . . noise. Actually, I felt it more than I heard it. The ground started shaking. Instinct kicked in before I could think; I jumped on my broom and sped up to a safe height. That's when I saw the earth just . . . open up, right below the horde of Death Eaters. They were nearly all swallowed up, though a few managed to escape.

"I wanted to bury Voldemort and everything he stood for. So as soon as everything stopped moving around so much, I swooped down and levitated the rock slab into the air a bit, then hurled it towards the pit. It plunged down into the chasm, and a minute or so later, the chasm closed up.

"And that was it. It was over. I went to the dorm, packed up my things, left the Invisibility Cloak on my bed, and left. Fawkes caught up with me at the last minute, and we headed off together. Like I said before, Susan, I tried being around when you were born, but that didn't work out so well."

There was a profound silence after Harry had finished, and the adults all took a moment to sip on their tea and steady their breathing. After a minute or two, Hermione said, "Well, it's high time you and your daughter heard the other half of the story.

"I'd told the D.A. to meet in the Room of Requirement before the concert began. When you didn't show, everyone was so worried, but Ron and I played it off like it was our secret plan to have you stationed elsewhere. Everyone was there, it was brilliant -- even people like Lavender Brown and Zacharias Smith. They'd all heard about it, and no one was backing down.

"We decided not to give up the advantage of being on home ground, so we stationed ourselves inside the Entrance Hall after the concert had started and everyone was outside. We waited and waited; it felt like forever. Then suddenly this -- alarm went off.

"I talked to Dumbledore's portrait about it later; he'd had McGonagall rig up an alarm so that if anyone with a Dark Mark set foot on the grounds, light would flash in all the hallways, and a klaxon would sound. We knew without being told what it meant.

"So we went outside, and we saw these Death Eaters just . . . advancing. It was terrifying, it really was. They were in their full regalia, masks and all. They all had their wands drawn.

"We went into formation like we'd talked about; those of us who cast very strong Shield Charms put up a huge Shield around the entire group, like we'd done in Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day.

"They started firing spells, but they weren't Killing Curses or anything, just spells to disable us. We held them at a hundred feet or so for a good while, five minutes or so.

"Then they managed to get the Shield down." She sighed. "They blitzed us almost immediately, and they grabbed a couple of us. They were yelling about hostages. So . . . ." She turned to her husband. "Dear, would you like to tell this part?"

Ron nodded, took a sip of tea, and began speaking. "I knew it had to end. And I knew what I had to do. I yelled at everyone who was still standing to get inside. I had Hermione put a Shield around just the two of us, and I just flung everyone else inside with Mobilicorpus. I wasn't gentle -- maybe I should've been, it took Padma's ribs ages and ages to heal -- but I knew I had to get everyone inside.

"They had a couple students: Seamus Finnigan and Cho Chang. But I couldn't hold off any longer. I pushed Hermione behind me and . . . I said the word of power." He looked over at Harry. "The stones at Avebury taught it to me. It's something the earth has to respond to. And exactly what I wanted to happen, happened: the earth cracked open, and the Death Eaters started to fall.

"I screamed at Hermione to Summon Cho Chang; I ran forward and yelled, 'Accio Seamus Finnigan!' He flew up out of the hole straight away; he was unconscious, but he looked all right, so I laid him out on the steps.

"But when Hermione had Summoned Cho, the Death Eater who had taken her hostage came with her. So Cho was sort of clinging to the side of the crevasse. Hermione ran over to grab a hold of her, but the Death Eater was climbing over her even as Hermione was trying to save her.

"Before I could even run back to the chasm, Neville had raced right past me to help Hermione." My heart thumped painfully, but I didn't let anyone see how I felt. Ron addressed his wife: "Do you want to tell the rest?"

Hermione took up the thread. "I was holding onto Cho so tightly, just not wanting her to fall in and die. But as long as I was doing that, I couldn't fight the Death Eater. So he was clambering up the side, basically using Cho as a ladder.

"Then Neville came and just very calmly levitated the Death Eater into the air right above the chasm and Banished him down into the depths. He took Cho's other hand, and between the two of us, we hauled her onto the grass. Then Neville called out to Ron, 'Close it!!' So Ron held out his arms, made this incomprehensible noise, and brought his hands together. Just like that, the earth closed up again. There was just a little line of disturbed dirt to show where they'd been."

I sat back in wonder. They'd ended the war just like that.

"I always felt a bit guilty," Hermione said in a small voice. "That they all died like that, I mean."

"They were coming to kill children," Ginny said coolly. "They deserved whatever they got."

"Still . . . ." said Hermione, clearly uncomfortable.

"Still," Dad joined in, "they were people, just like us, and they were mourned."

When Ron and Ginny looked at him incredulously, he chuckled a little. "I've had to rely on the kindness of strangers quite a bit all these years. I've learned to be a little less swift in my judgments."

Ron laughed loudly at this. "You'll have your membership in Gryffindor House revoked."

They stayed for a while, talking and laughing, and I could see already that the three heroes' friendship was too fast to have been weakened by the intervening years. Some things were immutable, as I'd learned all too well. If I bleared my focus, if I let my vision go fuzzy, the four adults sitting on the couches in my little flat were indistinguishable from the ghosts in my memory I'd been fortunate enough to live amongst for the past few seasons. Some things lived on, no matter what.


	31. Epilogue

_Author's Note: For those of you concerned only with how Harry would defeat Voldemort and return to his family, your journey has ended. But for those of you who found themselves intrigued, perhaps surprisingly so, by "the Gryffindor screw-up and the weird, quiet Weasley cousin," this one's for you._

My parents and I had given it a good deal of discussion, and we decided I would finish up my sixth year at Hogwarts in the present day. With my break in early May, it wouldn't be easy, but my professors had all written to my parents to assure them they would accomodate my circumstances. I owled the Headmistress to officially drop Divination, and to assure her that I would work as hard as I could in my remaining subjects to keep up with my class.

Before I went back to Hogwarts, though, I had one last thing I had to do. Mum was back at work, and Dad was at the Ministry sorting out paperwork. (He'd been declared legally dead after being missing for five years, which was how I'd technically been in control of his Gringotts account all these years.) They'd left me to my own devices, trusting me not to do anything stupid.

Since Daisy, Mum's owl, had delivered a note to Neville telling him I was all right, I could find out where he lived just by casting a fairly simple tracer spell on Daisy. Thankfully, the moment I'd felt better, Grandpa had cajoled a friend in the Apparition Test Center into coming to our flat to examine me. After having been shuttled around by Side-Along Apparition so many times, passing the test was a breeze.

So I knew where I was going and how I was going to get there. What I was less clear about was exactly what I expected to get out of the trip, but I pushed that uncertainty aside and Apparated to Neville's town, a village outside of Cork, as soon as my parents were gone for the day.

I traveled with Dad's Invisibility Cloak on, and it was a good thing: I ended up in the middle of the town's High Street, in front of a building labeled "Longbottom Nursery." There were Muggles everywhere, so I went inside Neville's shop, which seemed to be deserted, and took off the cloak there.

I temporarily Vanished the Cloak and took a look around. I was in a tiny, dusty room that was filled with Muggle gardening supplies. To my left, there was a little counter with a cash register on it, but no one sat behind the counter. A door opposite the one from the street led into a back room that seemed to be the nursery in question; it was full of sunlight, unlike the room I was in now, and through the glass I could see rows and rows of green. Opposite the cash register, a narrow, rickety staircase led up, though it was blocked off with a little hanging rope.

I didn't know what to do with myself, but luckily, I didn't have to decide: a moment later, Neville headed through the glass door into the front room, wiping his soil-caked hands on his jeans. "Good morning, miss, what can I --" He got a good look at me and stopped. The silence was terrible. "Susan?" he asked, and his voice was little more than a whisper.

He stepped forward hesitantly, and I got my first good look at him. The baby fat was gone; he had gotten considerably taller, and while he was still stocky, his face had lost most of its softness. Other than that, he looked much the same as ever: dark, medium-length hair; clean-shaven chin; smooth, unlined face.

"Hi," I said, and immediately wanted to Apparate away again. Eighteen years had passed for him, and my first word was "hi."

He hesitated a moment, then said, "Would you like to come up to my flat? I'll put on some tea."

I nodded, so he turned the sign on the front door from OPEN to CLOSED, unhooked the rope to the second floor, and told me to lead the way.

Upstairs, we entered into a small kitchen. I sat down at the table; Neville washed his hands, took a kettle, poked it with his wand, and put it on a countertop to warm. Then he sat at the other chair and looked at me, apparently at a loss for words.

"So you live here?" I asked, and again could have died from how stupid I sounded.

"Yes," he said quickly. "I've had the shop for almost fifteen years now."

"Oh. This is a Muggle town, yeah?"

"Yes. But one of Ireland's best Herbologists has lived here all her life, and I came here after graduation to study with her. When I was finished my apprenticeship with her, I decided to open a shop for Muggles and wizarding people both. The boundaries are a little more . . . fluid in Ireland. The Muggles don't really think twice when they see someone in robes in my shop. And I make sure to keep the magical plants in a separate greenhouse."

I nodded. I was out of ideas for topics of conversation.

Thankfully, Neville took up the task as he poured the water for tea: "How are your parents?"

I smiled. "They're going to get married soon, I think some time around Dad's birthday. Mum needs time to make the arrangements and send out the invitations. And after that, I think the chances are good that I'm going to find myself with a passel of little brothers and sisters."

"That's brilliant," he said, also smiling as he handed me my mug. "They must be over the moon."

"They really are," I said. "After all these years, they're finally getting their chance." Then, realizing what I'd said, I colored and shut my mouth abruptly.

Neville realized too, because he paled. Then he regained his composure. "Yes. Well. I'm glad you came to see me, Susan. I was hoping I'd get to see you again."

His tone was so cool and collected that I quailed inside. He had obviously long since gotten over me; it was my hard luck that I'd only just left him a couple weeks ago. "Not at all," I said lightly. Then a thought struck me: "How's Leonora?"

He smiled. "I've got a little plot of land to myself out back with a fence round it; I planted her out there. You should see how tall she's got. I sell her wood for wands every spring."

"D'you get to know who's using her wood?"

"Once in a while I get a letter from a wandmaker telling me how well-suited she is to a particular core, generally the dragon heartstring. The British ones also mention how partial those wands are to Gryffindors."

We both smiled at the mutual memory. "So you've been doing all right, then," I said tentatively after a moment.

"All right?" Neville took a sip of tea and seemed to turn it over in his mind for a bit before answering. "I suppose I have."

He looked uncomfortable, but I couldn't stop myself from pressing on: "So, has there been anyone else?"

He frowned into his mug of tea. "You mean, other women."

"Yes," I said. I was embarrassed at having asked, but I had to know.

He chuckled humorlessly, still not meeting my eyes. "Well, I snogged Parvati Patil at our ten-year reunion." He looked up at me and saw my dismayed expression. "She'd had a little too much butterbeer, and I was . . . lonely."

"I'm sorry," I said honestly.

"But you were really asking if I'd been with anyone seriously." I nodded mutely. "Well, a lot of my customers are older women, and they're always setting me up with their daughters and granddaughters. So I've been out with a lot of girls, mostly Muggles. A lot of them were very nice, very sweet girls. There were a few I dated for several months at a time. Don't think I ever hit the six-month mark with any of them."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Anyone at the moment?" I asked, utterly failing to sound casual.

"No," he said carefully, tracing the handle of his mug. "I wouldn't have been much of a boyfriend to anyone for the past year or so. I've been up nights worrying about you."

My heart thumped painfully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said. "No one was sure you'd make it back alive."

"I almost didn't," I offered.

"I heard."

I was bursting to change the subject. "Uncle Ron told me what you did during the last battle. That was very brave."

He waved off the comment, his expression betraying a hint of irritation. "No it wasn't."

"Neville, it was."

"Susan, thanks to you, I knew I wouldn't die. It wasn't bravery."

Something in his tone nearly froze me. "Are you . . . angry with me?" I asked meekly.

He looked into my eyes, his face a picture of contrition. "Oh, Susan, no. I'm not angry."

"You seem it."

"I'm angry at myself," he admitted. "I thought --"

I leaned forward. "Yes?"

"I know I'm too old," he burst out. The words came pouring out of him, and he sounded much more like the 17-year old I'd known. "I would've stayed young if I could've, Susan. I even brewed a Youth Potion once -- me! I didn't even get an O.W.L. in Potions -- but it gave me horrible side effects. I hoped for all these years -- I went out every night to look for our constellation -- but I know -- I'm too old. You're not even eighteen, and I'm closer to forty than thirty. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He took a deep breath. "You came here to be polite, and here I am, nattering on like a madman. You'll be on your way now, I expect."

He was looking at me so earnestly, and he was so mistaken, that I couldn't help it: I grinned. I felt tears pricking my eyes, but they were mostly happy ones. "You're an idiot," I said.

He glowered at me, but I didn't give him a chance to retort. "For that matter, so am I," I continued. "I was convinced that in all this time, you'd have completely gotten over me. I thought you'd see me as a lovesick little girl coming to her old boyfriend in desperation, and that you'd pat my head and send me on my way."

He fumbled across the table to take my hands in his. "What are you saying?" he asked.

"Neville, I just left you a couple of weeks ago. Of course I'm still in love with you. I don't care that you're a bit older, as long as you don't care that I'm a bit younger."

"Care?" he laughed. "No, it's all right with me that you're seventeen and gorgeous."

I blushed, but couldn't stop smiling. "Are you planning on kissing me any time soon?" I asked, and almost before the words were out of my mouth, he'd leaned forward to do just that.

Oh, it was good, and all was right with the world. He was still mine, unbelievably, after all these years.

When he broke away, he said, "You still have another year at Hogwarts."

I nodded, touching my fingers to my lips almost unconsciously.

"What do you want to do, then?" he asked.

"We'll owl each other," I said. "I'm actually quite looking forward to your letters. I need to know what you've been up to all these years! And, of course, I've got an Apparition License and an Invisibility Cloak."

He grinned. "I guess you are tops at sneaking out of school."

"And when I graduate, I'll be happy to actually keep that promise I made you," I offered.

"You'd . . . move in? Here?"

"If you'd have me."

"Of -- of course. But -- won't your parents mind?"

I waved that off. "I'm an adult; they can't stop me. And I don't imagine they'd really be so miffed. They know you, after all."

"That they do," he said. "Won't you -- I mean, people will talk, Susan. And the talk won't be kind."

"Neville, I grew up as the bastard daughter of the Boy Who Disappeared," I said matter-of-factly. "You think my mother and I were immune to criticism just because she was grieving and I was a little girl? I've developed quite a thick skin in my life. Don't fret."

"What will you do out here, though? There aren't many wizarding folk, so you probably couldn't get a job that actually uses your magic."

"I've thought a lot about it," I said pensively. "What I really want to do is further research the Fidelius Charm. I think I can get funding from the Ministry for it. After that . . . who knows?"

I looked at him happily, but he still looked uncertain. "Neville, for the first time in my life, I haven't a clue of what's going to happen in the future. And I'm quite happy about it. There's nothing I must do, no predetermined course I must follow. I can do what I wish, and I wish to be with you. Are you objecting because you're truly worried for me, or because you have your doubts about whether we'll be able to pick up where we left off?"

He looked chagrined. "Both, I imagine."

I took his hand again. "Don't worry about me, please. I can take care of myself. And as for us . . . we'll give it a go, yeah? It's not like before; there are no deadlines and no secrets. We've been through so much already. It's high time we got to be a little bit boring."

He smiled at that, though there was still a little worry line between his eyebrows. I leaned in and kissed that spot. "We've got the rest of our lives ahead of us," I murmured. "No worries, all right?"

"All right," he said, and I felt him let go of most of his anxiety.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, probably," I said, "so I should go home and pack."

"Oh," he said, and his disappointment was obvious.

"I could stay a little longer," I hedged, "but you've probably got to get back to the shop."

"Mornings are pretty slow," he offered. "And you haven't seen the rest of the flat."

I raised my eyebrows. "Just how many other rooms are there?"

"Only three," he admitted. "The sitting room, the bathroom, and . . . well."

I grinned. "Yes, well. Maybe you ought to show me. I will be living here, after all."

"That's a fair point," he said, an identical grin spreading across his face as he stood up and took me by the wrist. His hand was trembling, or maybe mine was. I followed him without a second thought.

_That's all, folks. If you've enjoyed this, put me on your Author Alert list; I may just take up the pen to write about these guys again. Thank you, one more time, to all of you who've reviewed._


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